Rhapsody Theorem
by radishface
Summary: CHAPTER 13 UP! Utena's escaped to the Real World... but when Anthy comes back, she's left to question the 'reality' she knows... and what does Mikage have to do with it?
1. wake

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Rhapsody Theorum

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Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

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Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surrealness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. Rated R for the themes mentioned above, language, as well as... implied sex? I guess so.

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Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one take, and highly unlikely. By the way, this has no relation to my previous RGU fanfic, "Ugh... Men." You might be able to catch the deja-vu similar-names of the 'Real World' characters to the 'Ohtori World' characters...

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Radishface

* * * 

"I'm sorry." 

__

I'm sorry I couldn't do anything I'm sorry I couldn't be your Prince I'm sorry I couldn't make it I'm sorry I didn't save you sooner I'm sorry I didn't realize I'm sorry I didn't figure it out I'm sorry for not being there I'm sorry you had to go through all of that I'm sorry I didn't rescue you I'm sorry I apologize please understand I'm sorry--

****

* * * 

She blinked, and as her eyes focused, she saw the yellow stucco ceiling which had once been white, faint brown water stains creeping at the corners. Sunlight streaked in from a nearby window, she looked, and had to turn her head slightly to her left. There was a wilting African violet placed on the sill, and dirt streaked the windowpanes. Outside, there was sun, there was the shadow of a tree and she saw a bird perched there, peering at her with interest. Groggy, she sat up, scratching her head while keeping her eye on the bird. Noting with interest that she was awake, it flew away. 

"Ah~~ SHIT!!" A male voice came from her right, followed by a loud _thump._

She turned around, and her eyes widened considerably. "The hell--" 

"Dude, sorry... sorry... ow." A _very _apologetic male voice sounded, and she blinked again, as she noticed the voice coming from a mass of blankets to the bed at her right on the floor. The muscle under her eye twitched as she shifted her glance to the man on the bed, who looked stonily _un_apologetic, a piece of linen casually draped over his waist. 

"You were supposed to be _out _for the rest of the day." The male voice laughed from on the floor, and a head poked out of the blankets. She just sort of sat there, unbelieving. "You've been out for three days straight."

"Three days." She commented, keeping a straight face. For some reason, she was compelled to laugh, and then turned away, as the man on the bed rose to help the man on the floor to his feet. When she turned around again, both of them were sitting on the bed, blankets draped over the appropriate spots. Thankfully.

"That's right." The man with red hair laughed. She noted his hair was longish, to his shoulders, and unkempt (although that was probably due to his activities). His blue eyes sparkled with humor, although his face was a bright red, which matched his hair. The man next to him wore a disinterested expression, but he was looking between them with an amused glance through his violet eyes, and shook his head, green hair tangled. His ears were pierced, and judging from the nightstand, which was crowded with gold rings, silver studs, and dangling jewelry, she guessed they were his. 

"Right." She breathed. "And what are you doing here?" 

"What are we--" The red-head raised an eyebrow. "I think I introduced Syle to you the other day when we were at the club." He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head, and then cast her a curious glance. "God, you must be _really _out of it."

"I guess I am." She looked down at her hands, which were grasping the bed sheets with a strange ferocity. "And you are--?"

"Me?" The red-head blinked, a faint smile on his lips. "You really _are _out of it. How much did you take?" He leaned in. "You _know _we have finals two days from today. You missed class yesterday, too." He tsked. "Bad girl... you _should_ be more responsible." 

It felt as though it was an appropriate time to say "Jesus Motherfucking Christ fuck _you,_" but she refrained. She didn't even remember which classes she was taking. 

"And you are--?" She repeated, afraid to make any sudden movements, like she was going to fall off a cliff any moment. 

"I guess I'll play along with your..." He paused. He turned to the green-haired man next to him, and she felt an urge to turn away again, afraid they were going to do something-- no, no. Don't think about that. You don't even know what you're doing here right now, why should you be afraid of two goddamned homos--

"Amnesia, you dolt." Syle... that was his name, she remembered, rolled his eyes but leaned in and pecked the red-head on the cheek. "You're an idiot, and you say you've been taking the psychology classes?"

"Hey, a guy can forget, right?" Blue eyes sparkled, and he lightly snubbed his nose. "Especially when he's been screwing around and not doing his homework."

"Mmhm." They leaned in again, completely forgetting her presence, and she felt as though this should be very familiar to her, but she couldn't exactly place it.

"Ahem." She coughed, not-so-discreetly. The two men refrained from their actions and resumed talking to her.

"Ah, yes, where was I-- I'm the guy who throws the wild parties." He smiled, a dazzling smile, full of white teeth that could be on any toothpaste commercial. "The... um... toga parties."

"You don't throw parties, you dumbass, you sit and you read gay porn in front of the computer all day--"

"Only with you!" An indignant protest.

"Fucking idiot-- oomph."

Knowing she couldn't get an answer out of them, she huffed in annoyance and threw herself down on her bed and buried her head under her pillow, bemoaning her fate as she felt a wave of nausea come over her, which, ironically, made her feel sleepy. At least she didn't feel so sick when she was asleep.

"Mmph-- stop that-- by the way, Utena~~" the 'party-thrower' called to her, stopped every now and then by the affections of the green-haired man, and she deduced that they were talking to her. She hadn't forgotten her own goddamn _name, _had she? Just how much _had _she taken at that party? What party? Hell. She covered her poor, poor, virgin ears with the under stuffed pillow, trying to block out the sounds.

"I'll wake you up-- you moron! she's my roommate, you can't while _she's_-- I'll wake you up for our statistics class, okay?" 

She nodded her head, yes, whatever, under the pillow, but he probably didn't see it because he was being distracted at the moment. Groaning at her fate again, she ignored the pangs of hunger that gnawed at her stomach and forced herself to fall back asleep.

****

* * * 

"Utena?" A hand passed in front of her face. "Hello? Dear?"

She didn't pay any attention to the manicured hand that was waving in front of her face, nor did she pay any attention to her books, which slowly started slipping out of her arms and onto the floor. A flash of red hair, and faint cursing, as her roommate started picking up for her. Utena didn't really care. 

"I think you're still in your trance." He smiled at her cow-faced expression, and dumped the books back in her arms, which she decided that she'd bother to hold onto this time. Big, thick, 700-page books didn't come cheap, and she didn't want to have to buy new ones after ripping up the ones she had (which seemed to be rather old and torn anyway)... besides, she didn't even know how much money was in her bank account, much less if she _had _one.

She had yelled at him after Syle left, while she was in the shower and he was making breakfast for the both of them, taking her accusations in stride. She didn't remember the party, didn't remember taking anything, didn't remember being carried back to their dorm, so on and so forth. She'd pulled on a yellow sweater and some blue jeans, not bothering with the socks as she shoved her feet into worn-out flip-flops. 

"You fucking _homo!_" She'd snapped at him. "Why can't you keep your fucking hands to yourself? Do you have to fucking bring _home _your boy toy? Couldn't you have gone to _his _place? Do you know how _shocking _it was to see that, first thing I woke up? I don't even remember seeing anything else!"

"Yes, yes, honey." He'd chimed, as he flipped the eggs in the frying pan, wincing as some of the hot cooking oil splattered onto his face. "I understand." 

"And do you have to fucking wear _my _clothes?" She rambled on. "I look in your closet and that's all I see. Blouses after blouses, flared pants, rose-print summer dresses--"

"Those are actually _my _clothes, hon'." He'd replied mildly, before flipping the eggs again and then putting them on a plastic plate and setting it on the dinky table which was cluttered with term papers and encyclopedias. 

"That's _right._" She'd gone on, ignoring the reply. "Because you-- you-- you're a fucking _queer_, you--"

"I like that." He laughed, taking off the apron and shoving it in the cupboard, wincing as he heard a crashing of glass. "Queer-you." 

So the name sort of stuck, even though he said his real name was Doug. She might have heard the name somewhere before, because it all seemed like it'd happened before. Doug Queer-you? 

She'd taken that stupid statistics test, which actually happened to be today. And she'd probably failed it, since she had no idea what the subject was about. Utena vowed never to touch whatever she had touched at any other party again. Or let herself be talked into going to another one. Despite the fact that he was flamingly annoying and ruffling gay, Doug was still sort of endearing. And his boyfriend was just plain hot, with the I-couldn't-care-less-what-the-fuck-is-going-on-in-the-world-right-now attitude, although she thought the green hair was a bit strange. It turns out that Syle worked on the campus Starbucks and played in the 'Anarchist Revolution' band after classes, hence the dyed green hair. 

"And you have an appointment after our government class." Doug told her, patting her books. "You need to re-dye your hair, although I love your natural hair color, too." He sighed. "I always tell Syle that his hair looks _fine _and he doesn't _need _to pour that nasty green paint over his head, but he just won't listen..."

Well, speak of the devil. Utena ran her fingers through her hair, noticing the oddly bright pink color. She had dyed hair too. Imagine that. 

"I guess so." She said absent-mindedly. 

"Tell Michael I said 'hi,' and tell his sister I said 'hi' too." Doug murmured, catching sight of Syle across the campus grassy area and waving to him. "He's your hairdresser, if you can't remember." 

"Oh, right."

Why was everything so hazy? It wasn't just the drugs, whatever she took...

"And are you coming to the rave tomorrow night?" Doug smiled brightly at her, patting his shoulder bag contently. "I've got some E right here if you want it, although I'm not sure if you can handle the stuff." He snickered, and picked up his pace, worming his way through the crowded main quad towards the class stairs, where Syle was presumably waiting for him. 

This was college? All classes, parties, and drugs? What a disappointment, Utena thought, and then suddenly scowled at herself. No, this was what she had been waiting for, wasn't it? After her parents had kicked her out of the house, gotten themselves killed, and after that stupid breakup with her old boyfriend during middle school, and the whole am-I-gay-or-am-I-not affair with that dark-skinned exchange student--

What was she talking about?

Yes, yes, she was going to the rave. She was going to dance in the primal way everybody danced, she was going to see the world as if spinning through red water. She was going to take E and hash and Coke and a million other things. Utena caught up with Doug, who was breezing along through the crowds without a care in the world, giving Syle a brilliant smile as he approached him. They didn't passionately kiss or do anything disgustingly queer like that, and Utena was half-relieved. 

"So she's coming?" Syle looked at her with the usual disinterest, and Utena felt like smacking him. After all she'd witnessed yesterday, this was how he treated her? Not that he had acted as though it was a big deal, though. 

"Yes, I am." She huffed, holding her books a bit tighter around her chest. 

Syle raised an eyebrow and Doug just gave her a look that signified "I knew it." 

"Even after you were stoned for two days?" Syle murmured, under his breath. "It's okay to do it in moderation." 

"I don't plan to hash anything out this time." Utena snapped back, feeling particularly irritable. Usually, she felt, she wasn't like this. Or at least, she didn't think so. She wasn't supposed to be some partying college girl who did drugs every now and then. But it didn't matter. Last time she'd went, there was a sort of solace, she knew, in the haze and in the blurs that sort of blocked everything else out, and a quiet feeling of serenity, happiness, maybe, and a multitude of questionable and confusing things that didn't _have _to do with the smiling faces she saw, the rose petals, that sort of thing, and she could almost remember what had happened before _that. _

"I think she's slipping away again." Syle's voice came out at her, and she blinked a couple times to rid herself of that annoying grey that always seemed to cloud over her when she wasn't paying attention to keep it away.

"I'm right here." Utena said quietly, bowing her head at the both of them in some unspoken tradition, and they looked at her strangely before shrugging. "Well, I'll go on ahead." She smiled, nervously, without knowing why.

"Sure thing, hon'." Doug replied dismissively. 

"'Later." Syle answered. 

She pushed open the appropriately worn down to the building, and grimaced as somebody stepped on her foot (after all, she was only wearing flip-flops), and by some miracle, managed to walk up the stairs among all the couples making out in the corners (and it was mostly guys and girls who were publicly displaying their affection), and reached her class, turning the doorknob as she found an empty, deserted desk in the corner which was not being sat on. There _was _gum on the underside, but that hardly mattered. Throwing the rest of her books on the floor, Utena picked out her government book and started reading about the Cold War. Something about the Soviet Union and the United States-- funny, how their initials, S.U., and U.S., were replicas of each other, but backwards...

"If you'll get seated, we'll start now." The professor clipped at the incoming students, who hurriedly stopped mingling and took their seats. She pushed her antiquated cat-shaped glasses up her nose and used a ruler to point to the whiteboard, which had millions of millions of flow charts and names and dates and rules that Utena just didn't have the time or the energy to comprehend...

Class had barely started before she dozed off again. 

She was just tired, Doug noticed, as he sat, three desks to her right. And she looked tired when she was sleeping. You weren't supposed to look tired when you were asleep. You were supposed to look like you were resting. Like you were _getting _rested. Poor, poor girl. 

Well, at least she was catching up on her beauty sleep, right? 

****

* * * 

"Now he's back home, doing nine-to-fiiiiive~" 

Utena cautiously walked into the salon, taking in the old-fashioned red-and-white swirley thing at the door, and the spotless tile floors, the black leather waiting chairs, the piles of magazines on the table, and the bottled water and coffee waiting in a corner for customers such as herself. She sat down next to an balding sleeping man who had a thread of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Laughing to herself at the pathetic sight, she picked up a magazine-- Vogue, it was-- and flipped through the pages absent-mindedly. Look at this house, the woman in the magazine told her. It belongs to a famous movie star and boasts the contemporary Scandinavian look, pure and clean. Not like the sort of 17th-century-palace-of-Versailles look you had back at the college. 

What? 

She stared at the magazine and at the ad for penthouses in Hollywood, at the bosom woman who was the cover girl. Nobody said anything, except for the faint "Lady Marmalade" coming from the background. 

"More... more... mooooooore~" 

The hairdresser, which she presumed to be "Michael," was singing at the top of his lungs, his ears behind a pair of immense earphones, shampooing his current customer with in a frantic frenzy. Bubbles rose out of the woman's head with astonishing speed, and the woman herself looked a bit strangled as she struggled to keep her head in the basin. 

"Laaa~aaady _Marrrr~malaaa~aade_!!!" Michael belted, shaking his head to the beat, and whipped his hands out of the mess of bubbles and turned to the girl in the chair, beaming. 

"Four minutes and twenty-four seconds. That's my standard shampoo and conditioning time." His hands flitted, taking off the earphones, and he reached for the faucet, turning the water on. "Now it's time to rinse!"

"Make it quick, hon." The woman muttered, bored. "I've got a customer waiting for me in half an hour and I have to be by the curb." 

"All righty!" Michael didn't lose the grin, and much more gently, this time, reached to rinse her hair out. The woman in the chair relaxed visibly. "You didn't mind that I didn't use Pantene Pro-V today, did you?"

"No, this one likes the fruity smell." The woman muttered again. Utena wondered if she wasn't capable of anything beyond that. "It's one of those environmentalists."

"Who is it this time?" The hairdresser bounced, finishing up, and Utena rolled her eyes in her seat, focusing her attention on the magazine. She'd heard enough of this, who-slept-with-who on campus, she didn't need to hear it again. Was that all there _was _to talk about, now?

"Can't tell you, it's confidential." The woman clipped. "I'll give you a clue, though. Wonder Woman."

Michael gasped, although it was so exaggerated Utena couldn't tell if it was mock or not. "I don't believe it! Miss Justice herself?" He exclaimed. 

"Tell me about it." The woman winced. "Watch that spot." 

"Sorry." Michael apologized, then resumed the conversation. "Does she like you, _Shirley_?"

"Like me?" The woman snorted. "She's infatuated with me. And don't call me that." She huffed. "Are you _done _yet?"

"Almost, almost." 

"That's the only reason I'm with her." She muttered. "She's completely fucking loaded. Money pouring out of her stupid suits like shit out of an bird's ass."

__

She? Utena grimaced. _Great, a dyke, now._

"Nice analogy, Swirlies." Michael said pleasantly, and then stood up. "Just let me put the dryer on, and you'll be free to go!"

"Thanks." The woman said. "And don't call me that, either." 

"Well, then, what _should _I call you?" Michael asked, amused, as he wrapped her hair in a pink towel embroidered with green leaves. 

"What Miss Justice calls me." She smirked. "God."

"God?" Michael's eyes widened in mock-surprise. "I wouldn't have guessed for the world." She didn't answer, and he sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Next!"

Utena put down the magazine, running a hand through her dry hair, which was coarse, stiff, and not pleasant at all. The woman sitting under the dryer-- Shirley, Swirlies, or God, whatever her name was, looked up at her with a cold gleam in her heavily-made-up eyes and snatched a magazine off the counter to read herself while her hair was drying. She wore a simple black choker, a maroon tube top and cleavage that boasted cosmetic surgery, and a black leather skirt with ties on the side, and boots that reached to her knees, the heels five inches tall. Utena's eyes widened just slightly and looked at her own flip-flop sandals, and wondered how much practice it took to walk in _those. _

"Ahhh~ 'Tena, how _are _you?" Michael glimmered, almost shoving her down into the chair, tying an apron-bib-sort of thing around her neck, and she let herself be led into the crazy dance of hairdresser and customer. She was spun around in the seat, while Michael pulled at her hair, making 'tsk' noises. She felt vaguely annoyed, but didn't say anything. She barely even remembered him.

"I heard you had a run-in with some opium." Michael bubbled, as he proceeded to shove her head down in the basin, and she heard the _glop glop_ as shampoo was being squeezed into his hands. "Did you see any colors?"

"Colors?" She asked, confused. What the hell was she supposed to see _colors _for?

As if reading her mind, Michael began massaging her scalp-- quite a different treatment than what he'd given that other woman. "Some people see colors when they smoke it." He whispered this, almost confidentially, and it was understandable, since it wasn't exactly legal to be taking everything she was. "I was just wondering what you saw."

__

But I didn't smoke anything. Utena thought, suddenly frantic. _I was drinking something. It tasted like tea. And cookies, for some reason. But I haven't had cookies for years. Cookies and tea, like in some sort of a dollhouse party. And they tasted like poison, sweet, bitter, poison, for ten years--_

Her mind suddenly blanked on the image, the taste of it in her mouth vanished. "I think I saw purple waves." She murmured, closing her eyes as he started to soap her hair. It felt good, like that. She deserved a head-massage, after being knocked out for three days and still waking up feeling like she had a hangover from the night before.

"Purple waves?" Michael smiled back in response, and Utena felt that he'd make one hell of a great psychologist, the way he handled his customers, or a bartender at one of those old-people bars, where the old farts with their marriage problems would come in and groan and mumble about their fates and their husbands or wives and how they didn't _want _to be stuck with them forever, and how they wanted to be _free _of everything. That's why, Utena though, she had to savor her freedom while she still had it. Before she had to marry or something horrible like that, and have children, because that's the way that everybody. Eventually. Went.

Because they were normal.

She had a feeling she wasn't normal, not before, not now, not forever. 

__

Purple waves. She thought. _Purple waves. Like hair, sort of. Fell through my fingers. Not coarse and thick and dry like mine, but wonderfully heavy, thick, beautiful hair. Like water._

"That's interesting, though." Michael thought out loud. "You know what I see?" He leaned in, and Utena unconsciously strained up to hear the words, as if they were some wonderful secret. 

"What?" 

"I see purple, too." He laughed. "Although I wouldn't describe it as purple. Lavender, maybe. More periwinkle than anything else. And they're like smoke, fingers, reaching out towards me." He thought for a second, his fingers pausing in their work, in the bubbles, in her hair. "And sometimes, they play the piano with me." 

"The piano?" Utena murmured. _It was a rich, deep purple._

"My sister's a concert pianist, I told you before." He said, shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "She's in New York right now, Carnegie Hall."

"I see," Utena said, even though she didn't see. What was Carnegie Hall? Fuck, she felt stupid. 

"Rachmaninoff's second concerto." Michael's voice dimmed a bit, as if reminiscing something. "It's really pretty, you know? Have you heard it?"

"I don't think so." Utena said, shaking her head under the bubbles. "I've never been a Classical-music person."

"I forgot, you like trance and rave and metallic..." Her hairdresser pursed his lips, fingers going to work again. "Oh, by the way, he also told me about your slight amnesia." 

"Who?" Those fingers really were amazing, kneading her scalp like that. She wanted to go to sleep again, like she had in class. Nobody would yell at her here. She closed her eyes.

"Touga."

Utena's eyes snapped open. "_What?_" She screamed sitting up abruptly. 

"Oh, shit!" Michael backed away from the basin, and stared at her, a worried expression creeping across his features. "Did I do something? I'm sorry--"

"No, no--" She stammered, looking about wildly, looking at him, then looking at herself in the mirror. 

__

Something different--

"Okay." He smiled, a bit nervously, approaching Utena again as she sunk back into the chair. "Don't scare me like that." 

"I'm sorry." She murmured, and couldn't resist laughing, although it almost sounded hysterical. "I looked pretty funny in the mirror just then."

"You had bubbles all over your head." He said, amused, and resumed washing her hair, although those fingers were more tense, now. 

They were silent, and Utena was aware the lady that had sat beside her, the one with the 'appointment,' had left. She wondered how long ago.

"Who'd you said told you I had a bit of a problem?"

"Doug." Michael replied. "He sounded worried."

"Oh." She breathed. "Right." 

Silence again.

"Do you want me to re-do the pink today?" Michael asked, a bit timidly. 

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead." She said, and was aware of a strange tightening in her throat, a sharp stinging in the back of her eyes. "And watch the soap." 

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She said, aware of the tears in her eyes, and didn't bother to wipe them away. "It's fine, Michael."

"You can call me Mike." He reprimanded, gently, as if speaking to a child. "Did you forget?"

"Mike." She whispered, to herself.

__

Miki.

****

* * * 


	2. reappearence

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Rhapsody Theorem

[ chapter 2 ]

__

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

__

Warnings: OOCness. Rated NC-17 for mature themes. Sort of.

__

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one take, and highly unlikely. By the way, this has no relation to my previous RGU fanfic, "Ugh... Men." You might be able to catch the deja-vu similar-names of the 'Real World' characters to the 'Ohtori World' characters...

****

Radishface

__

Who's there?

__

It's just that, your face, when you were asleep--

What?

When you were asleep, you looked like somebody I thought I knew--

-- I don't understand--

Who are you?

You'll see me later.

When?

Maybe today.

"JESUS!" Utena bolted up, out of her bed. She looked around, and was treated to a display of the old, regular, unwashed bed sheets, the African violet wilting on the window sill, and the shadow of the tree outside. She looked to her right and saw the Queer's unmade bed, pillows tossed in a corner, the mattress half-falling apart... well, that was what you got when you did more than sleeping in it. Shifting her gaze to the leaking ceiling, she muttered under her breath about the uselessness of gay men who couldn't repair ceilings, just for good measure. 

__

Who-- are--

"Are you okay in there?" Doug called from outside, and she stared blankly at the closed door and didn't answer. "Utena?"

"I'm _fine!_" She burst out, scratching her head, feeling grumpier than she did yesterday. Her hair felt nice, though. The strands just sort of slipped through her fingers like gossamer, the pink dye was brighter than it was, and overall, she felt refreshed. Utena got up off the bed and stretched, feeling the vertebrae in her backbone pop, and made her way to the bathroom, where she scooped the clothes off the floor and dumped them in the hamper. It was overflowing with most of her roommate's items, she noticed grimly. Picking up a tee-shirt that still looked clean, she pulled her pajamas off and slipped it on, feeling the cool against her skin. Utena was about to dig through the hamper for a pair of pants, then decided against it. She was comfortable enough in sweats, anyway. 

"I made breakfast. Again." Doug announced as she walked into the kitchen. "Help yourself." He gestured towards the buffet-style plate of pancakes. 

"I didn't know you could make those," Utena admitted, and saw his eyes brighten. "But of course you could, I mean, you're a goddamned housewife."

"Au contraire, sweetie." He winked at her, sitting down at the kitchen table, setting the books on the floor. "You taught me how to make them, but you probably forgot that, too." He grinned. "But that's okay, because I don't mind taking credit for your wonderful pancake recipe."

"I never made pancakes." 

"You didn't?"

"I made shaved ice."

"I like that. You should make it for me sometime. Especially strawberry-flavored." 

"Excuse me?"

They both blinked at the same time.

Doug raised an eyebrow. "I said, you should make me that shaved ice sometime. You never made it before."

"Made what?" Utena twiddled her fork. "Shaved ice?"

"You just said you did." He pointed out. 

"I've never made it in my life." She huffed, almost laughing. "You get strange ideas." 

"But you just said--"

"I didn't _say _anything." She snapped, irritated. "I don't even know what shaved ice is."

"Suit yourself," Doug resumed eating his pancakes, and left Utena the one staring. 

"Did I say something about shaved ice, though?" She thought out loud, eyes clouding. "Crushed ice... maybe, with different colors on them? I can't fucking remember..."

He shook his head. It was her amnesia again. Then again, she _could _be faking it, just to get attention. But she'd never done that before. She was such a nice girl before _something _happened. When they were first roommates, she'd be so wide-eyed, sort of innocent, like she didn't belong in college, hadn't been such a bad girl. Then something _happened. _He forgot what, he didn't keep track of it. It wasn't his business, after all, even though they were roommates. He felt as though he should care a little more, but he really couldn't bring himself to. And it didn't matter, anyway. This was now.

"Crushed ice...? Like the kind that comes out of the refrigerator? Maybe grinded a bit more--" Utena shook her head and smiled, wistfully. "Sorry I snapped at you like that. I'm still sort of grumpy."

"It's okay." Doug took the last bite of his pancake and set his fork down, standing up and bringing the dishes to the sink. Surprisingly, unlike the rest of the apartment, the sink was unnaturally clean. It wasn't filled with dirty dishes or leftover food waiting to be eaten up by the garbage dispenser. "Listen, Utena, maybe you shouldn't go tonight. I don't think you're up for it."

"And who made you my mother?" She laughed, without any trace of bitterness, which meant she had no feelings left for her dead parents. It was like she was mocking herself. 

"You're still saying random things." 

"I'll just stay away from everything, then." She stabbed the pancake with her fork, and left it there, grabbing the syrup from across the table and pouring it on with gusto. "I'll just sit in a corner and watch everybody else fuck around while I keep to myself like the good little princess I am." 

"Princess?" He laughed, turning on the faucet. "You're certainly _not _a princess."

She cast a glare at him, but there was humor in her eyes. "And how not?"

"You're not demure, you're not feminine, and you're definitely not prissy. If anything, _I'm _the one who should be the princess." 

"And your green-haired punk-monkey is your prince?" Utena's lips quirked, she couldn't help it.

"No, _you_ should be." He batted his eyelashes at her, and her expression immediately turned stony.

"I'm not like that, you know."

"What about that incident with the girl a couple months ago?" He teased, pushing his luck. "You were raving about her. You were _crazy_ over her. And you earned yourself quite a reputation."

"I don't remember a single fucking thing." She clutched at her hair, wanting to rip it all out. It wasn't fair that he kept reminding her of things _she _didn't recall. It was like putting the blame on her, in some odd way. She didn't even know what she was getting blamed for, or taking the blame for. "Who the hell was it?"

"I don't know." Her roommate murmured, surprised. "You never told me." 

"Well then what the _fuck _are you bringing it up for?!" 

He shrugged, ignoring her angry display. "I felt like it. And you know how _I _rant about my newest boyfriend or whatever when you're around, I figured you should start doing your share again."

"Well, I don't _remember!_" 

"It's okay." Tossing his red hair over his shoulder, he sat down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn't push it off. "You'll remember, eventually. You usually do."

"Usually?" She buried her face in her hands. "Fuck you." 

"I don't know about that." He smiled, apologetically. "I'm queer."

"Shithead." She muttered under her breath. "You should have taken me to a hospital or something."

"You've never said _that _before," he mused thoughtfully. "And besides, if they found out what was in your system, you'd have been taken away."

__

To the police, to authorities, whatever. She thought, with a tinge of bitterness. _And then where would I be?_

"You didn't stop me, either." She groaned, letting her face slump onto the table, nose pressing against the dirty plastic. "No one bothered to stop me, did they."

"You're on a roll today." Doug laughed, patting her head, and then running his fingers through her hair, gently. "Saying all the things you've never said before, probably never even thought."

"So what if I've had a revelation about myself?" She grumbled, feeling a little better. For some reason, the fingers in her hair felt familiar, and annoying, but more familiar than annoying, so she let it be. 

"Watch out, world, Utena's coming through." Doug laughed. "It's a revolution."

"Fuck off." She murmured again, and the fingers in her hair withdrew. She was disappointed, but it was what she asked for.

"Are you going to take the clothes to the cleaners?" He stood up again, squinting at the clock. "If you leave now, you can hang out around the streets for an hour and then go get them again."

"What are _you _doing?" She drawled, lifting her head off the table to look at him. Doug was heading towards the door, putting on a white jacket he'd picked up off the sofa. 

"I'm going to work." He said, as if that was all he needed to say. "And then I'm going to get some coffee."

"We have some here." 

"Not that watery junk." He made a face. "Starbucks."

Her eyebrow raised. "Isn't that where your boyfriend works?" Utena noticed a faint red streak across his cheeks, and huffed. "Fucking queer."

"Yes, I know I'm strange." Doug called as he opened the door. "And tell the cleaners to take care of my silk boxers, if you haven't forgotten, I need those to be washed in cold water--"

"Do it yourself, fucker!" She yelled good-naturedly, after him. He turned and blew a raspberry at her, and then slammed the door shut. 

She looked around their dorm, absently noting for the fifth time that day that it was completely, utterly filthy. Her roommate's government and statistics books were cluttered on the floor, and loose sheets of notebook paper and computer paper were scattered everywhere. Jackets and coats and were thrown over chairs in the kitchen and the sofa in the living room-- empty glasses were stacked a mile high on the floor by the television and on the television. Thankfully, there were no dirty dishes to wash.

Utena wished everything would be clean.

Clean, white, pure, untouched, unmarred, innocent, sort of clean.

She marched into her room and opened the dresser, marveling at the lack of clothes (which, of course, were all in the hamper). There were a pair of old, faded, and baggy jeans at the bottom of the drawer that smelled like mothballs, but at least she'd go out looking halfway respectable. She took off her sweatpants and put those on, marching into the bathroom to throw her sweats in with the rest of the dirty clothes, and then was faced with the frightening reality of the situation-- how the FUCK was she going to carry a two-thousand pound load of clothes to the cleaners, which was located in some location she had forgotten in her haze? 

Running into the kitchen, she opened the cabinets furiously, and then grabbed the garbage bags, and raced back into the bathroom. She stuffed all the clothes into two bags and grinned-- it wasn't going to be that hard, after all.

She probably looked homeless or something, with a load of plastic garbage bags on her bag as she walked to the dorm garages, and a few passerbys gave her strange looks as she walked by them. Ignoring their glances, she somehow managed to find her way to a rusted green jeep she _knew _belonged to her. At least she didn't forget that much. 

"23-1-11-1-2-1" She read off the license plate, squinting in the shadows. "Yeah, that's it." Utena threw the bags into the trunk and jumped in the driver's seat, searching her pockets for a key. 

"The key, the key, where's the key--hn." She frowned. There it was, in the ignition. Did Doug drive this piece of crap often? She had to remember to bitch at him when he got back. It wasn't safe to leave the doors open to the vehicle, much less leave the keys in the ignition itself. You wouldn't even need to hotwire the piece of crap to drive it out of this slum.

She turned the key, which made the jeep roar to life, and suddenly, unexpectedly, she laughed. That familiar feeling was creeping back into her fingers, perhaps the knowledge of driving, maybe something else-- she shifted the gears to reverse, backed out of the parking spot, and then switched the gears again, zooming out into the open. The gloom of the garage gave way to open sunlight, and for a second, Utena wished she was riding a convertible at ninety-five miles an hour, with the top down, the wind flying through her chemically-treated hair. And she wished she could be like those circus freaks, those clowns in their own cars, doing handstands and cartwheels on top of their little vehicles. She smiled ruefully to herself. 

Yes, that'd be nice. 

__

Just leave, get out of this, nobody will know.

I can't leave you.

Please, you don't understand the magnitude of it all, the hugeness and the complexities.

There's nothing to understand. I just want to protect you.

You can't. There's nothing worth protecting. Just leave me here.

I don't want to. And it's for me to decide. 

I'm trying to keep you safe--

And I'll do the same.

"Argh, do you think the color is fitting?" Doug's nose quirked as he looked at the black t-shirt that had '$1,000,000 DOLLARS' emblazoned across it. A pile of clean clothes lay on the bedroom floor (where they would get undoubtedly dirty again), where Utena had dropped them when she got back from her afternoon trip to the laundromat. She'd read somewhere that the laundromat was the best place to meet hotties and pick them up. Unfortunately for her, all the 'hotties' seemed to be middle-aged women and middle-aged potbellied men. Not exactly her type of action. 

"It's black." She muttered, snapping out of her daydream, and tried to force a tone of impatience into her voice. "It'll go with anything." 

"I don't know about the one-million dollars, though." His lips quirked again. "Do you think Sy-Sy will think it's a bit forward?"

"'Sy-Sy?'" Her eyebrows raised. "Is that what you call him now?"

"No." He puffed, and threw the black shirt in the corner, stretching. "Do you think I should just go shirtless?" He flexed his muscles. "I _do _work out. And everybody will appreciate the sight."

"Egad." Utena rubbed her eyes. "Look, I'm not wearing anything that flashy. It's not as if you're trying to get laid by a random person. You don't have to dress yourself up." 

"Of course I'm going to get laid." Doug huffed, and picked up a scarlet-see-through poet's shirt and compared it to the black one he had before. "The trick is to get him to _want _me."

"Fucking homo..." Utena buried her head in her hands. "Will you _please _hurry up?" She looked outside, past the African violet and the shadow of the tree, to the blood-tinged sky, streaked with orange. "It's getting late."

"All the more reason to show up fashionably, dear." He slipped on the flimsy red thing and pranced around in front of the mirror, admiring himself. "And what is _that _you're wearing?"

She looked at herself. She was wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck and a pair of jeans. 

"You've been _so _uptight lately." Doug glanced at her sympathetically. "I think you need to get some. And _that _getup," he pointed, "is not going to get you_ anywhere._" 

She blinked, and then scowled. "And excuse me, mister fancy pants, but what makes you think I _want _to get laid?" 

"You never know, dearest." He sighed at his reflection, apparently giving himself up, then started towards her. She raised an eyebrow and started to scoot away. "Sometimes, a good fuck is all you need." He wiggled his eyebrows. "If it's a cute girl, I hope you'll have fun. If it's a cute guy, I hope you'll share him with me. So anyway, about that outfit--"

"No. Fucking. Way." She shook her head. "I'm going in _this _and that's the _last _thing you'll say about it."

Apparently she didn't resist hard enough, either that or she actually _wanted _to get laid, because in a matter of fifteen minutes, her flamboyant roommate had her decked all-and-out in a pair of very cropped plaid shorts (appropriately innocently-schoolgirlish/boyish), red fishnet stockings, and a pair of knee-high black leather boots that were approximately five inches high (and it seemed that all these articles of clothing were his). Utena had been resolute on wearing the black sleeveless turtleneck, though, and managed to keep it on through the strip-and-re-plaster. Doug the Queer pouted at this, although his eyes glimmered with unsuppressed glee. 

"Well, at least your lower-body-half looks sexy enough." He stated, satisfied, as he made his way around her. "And that's what counts."

"I swear, I'm going to kill you--" 

"Oh, my, _look _at the time!" He exclaimed, pointing at a nonexistent watch on his wrist. "It's time to go~!" 

They chased each other merrily down to the dorm's garage, and hopped in the jeep. Utena pretended to throttle him, and he pretended to choke, and then he pretended to die. 

"By the way, Dead Man." She huffed, crossing her arms, as he lay with his head half-out of the window, tongue sticking out of his mouth. "Don't leave the car keys in the ignition again."

"Oof." Doug pulled his head up, and rubbed his neck. "I didn't leave them in."

"They were in there when I went to get the clothes washed this afternoon." 

"That's strange." He shrugged, and then started the car. "I mean, I put them up on the key rack by the door. I always do."

"You probably forgot, you faggot." She laughed, not as pissed off as she should have been with his 'irresponsibility.' "You were probably driving home with your boyfriend and you forgot the keys in the car."

"Because we were just _so _tired and wanted a good night's rest." He added, as they sped along under the street lamps, ignoring the curses thrown at 'those damn speeding college kids.'

"Yeah, right." 

The rest of the way, they rode on in good-natured silence, and somewhere along the way, Utena's head fell against the window and she took a nap.

"At least she'll be well-rested." Doug murmured to himself, keeping both eyes on the road. 

__

I'm your flower now.

The music (if it could be called that) was loud, the subwoofers were turned up to their maximum so that the entire ground shook as the beats struggled out. Bodies jerked to the same rhythm with different movements, and the lights reflected eerily off of metallic jewelry, the floor, and the walls. The world seemed to swirl, not stopping for anyone, as it changed colors, from blue to green to red to yellow and back to blue again, different scents of smoke hovering in the air like fog on a cold night, and while some people were part of the chaos that consumed the center of the enclosed space, scattered others murked in the shadows, waiting with predatory eyes to spring in at the right time. 

Utena's red-headed roommate had found his green-haired boyfriend waiting for them at the main entrance, hanging outside, drinking a can of soda. Utena had been faintly surprised-- after all, wasn't this a club of all sorts--? but they'd shone their identification, and scrambled on merrily inside, the two boys groping each other where they could-- and the refreshments lay in plain sight off to the corner. While Doug twiddled his fingers around Syle's green wavy locks, they both warned her not to drink anything out of the punch bowl, and proceeded to bump and grind away on the dance floor, much to her chagrin. This was a gay bar? Or was it a gay bar? Dammit, of all the places to _be._ She pulled her shorts down self-consciously. 

So Utena hung out by the refreshments although didn't touch any, despite many a woman's (and a few bisexual men) invitation to get her one. The ground thudded to the heavy techno beat, the annoying 'sceerchsceerchsceerch' of the remixing added to the screams in the air, and her head pounded along with everything else. The blood in her bloodstream threatened to beat with the same rhythm as the music, and she pressed two fingers to the pulse in her neck, as if she could halt the process. 

Her eyes flickered around, from the to-be-threesome exchanging wet kisses in front of her on the floor to the boy in the corner gulping down some sort of bright green concoction to the bar across the room where the bartender was looking appropriately stoic to the restroom signs in the corner and the niche that led to them, obscured by two females who were fondling each others' breasts. For some reason, perhaps because through all the haze, she didn't feel like gagging, for once. She stared at them for quite a while, and then watched them disappear into the restrooms.

Suddenly, a flash of red hair, and her roommate was standing in front of her, looking mildly curious, but the normal brightness in his eyes was hidden by a fine cloudy gaze that signified that yes, he had popped something into his system. She groaned, and looked away.

"She's been staring at you all night." He yelled to her, above the music. He didn't slur his words, and she wondered what exactly was it that he had taken. Or maybe his eyes were just fogged up with the lack of air. 

Utena looked disinterested, and turned to examine the guy who was sitting down on the stairs, sipping something out of a bottle. He had a very defined nose, a wide mouth, and longish hair, and the part in front was lighter than the section in back. When the light turned red, his hair turned purple. When the light turned green, his hair was aqua. When the light turned yellow, his hair turned green. And when the light was blue, his hair was blue. So, through the process of elimination and the mathematics of colors, she concluded his hair was dyed blue. Absently, she wondered if her hairdresser was around.

"She's been staring at you all night." Her roommate repeated, and she reluctantly turned around to face him, his eyes changing colors as the strobe lights flashed.

"Who?"

"Her." He pointed across the dance floor, to the elevated section, where the bar was. She couldn't quite make out which 'her' he was talking about. The bartender was a man, so he was out. There was a guy leaning over the counter, and a couple girls situated in the corners, not many of them sitting down. All the people sitting down seemed to have their backs to her. 

"I can't see her." She huffed, and dismissed the idea, letting her eyes wander back to the niche where the bathrooms were. The spot where the two girls were had been replaced by a well-built man and his petite girlfriend, who was eagerly leaning into his embrace, letting him do as he wished. His hands were wandering all over her ass and up her skirt, Utena noticed, and turned away, feeling bile crawl up her throat. It was disgusting, how women gave themselves up like that. 

"She's the gorgeous one." Doug explained, putting an hand on her shoulder and leaned in so that they were almost sharing the same view perspective, and he raised his hand to point. "There."

A girl with volumous hair, indeed, was staring at her, with cool eyes. Her curls dripped down the side of her face like rain falling from the sky, down the side of her neck. From across the room, she noticed she was wearing what looked like half of a suit-- she _was _wearing a tie, which was loosened, and her blouse, crisply ironed, was unbuttoned at the top. Her fingers swirled a slim glass of liquid around, the minimal movement fluid and natural. Her other hand, in her lap, was holding her jacket, although the fingers wandering about her thighs seemed all but innocent. 

Utena's eyes flickered back to Doug with a look of half-hearted disgust, as he smiled blithely at her. 

"Told you she was gorgeous." He said with a know-it-all-expression on his face. 

"And she is...?" 

"Wonder Woman." Doug proudly announced, as if she was his own girlfriend. "Miss Justice herself. The richest lawyer ever to walk these fucking streets. Handles all the political stuff, too." He leaned in to whisper something to her. "I think I knew her back in middle school."

"Middle school, impressive." Utena rolled her eyes, although when they refocused, they had unwillingly placed themselves on the curl-framed face across the room, and those eyes were still looking at her. 

"It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." He said, taking his hand off her shoulder. "And if you two hit it off well enough, you'll never have to worry about walking to the laundromat again."

"And then where would _you _be?" Utena said wryly. "Off in the dumpster with your loser faggot." 

"I resent that." A hand reached out to snag a fistful of red hair, locking lips in a surprised 'oomph.' Utena raised an eyebrow and allowed herself to smile a secret smile as the two men-in-tight-pants made out in front of her. 

"Besides." She muttered. "I'm not like that."

"Sure you aren't." The 'loser faggot' mused, as Doug regained his breath. "I think you're just in the closet."

"Listen to someone's who had the same experience." Her roommate nodded with mock sympathy, patting Syle on the shoulder. "He was all boxed up too, working in _Starbucks, _for crying out loud." He cast a quirky grin. "How straight do you get?"

"_Most _coffee shops aren't straight." Was the argument, before another kiss cut them off. 

"So what the hell do you want me to do?" Utena muttered, as they looked back at her. "Go over there and introduce myself? 'Hi, I'm just your friendly neighborhood college delinquent, out here hanging with a bunch of loser faggots and I'd like to get into your pants just tonight so I can squander your money before you realize I'm just another bitchy whore?"

"Yeah, something like that." 

"Fuck off."

"Well, you don't have a chance anyway." Syle grinned, licking his lips. "Looks like she's got her pussycat waiting for her already."

A well-rounded posterior and a very curvaceous back blocked Utena's view of 'Miss Justice.' Obviously there was somebody sitting in her lap now. "Meow." She purred with disinterest. 

"Poor baby." Doug murmured, and rummaged through his pockets. "Here, have one." 

"And I thought you told me to stay away from them?" A raised eyebrow. "Damn you."

"Well, you look depressed." 

"And what are _you_ on?"

"E, GHB, LSD... all the letters of the alphabet, mommy."

"Gimme one of those."

"Say 'please.'"

"Please." 

A white pill was tossed to her and she caught it, somehow, miraculously, through all the smoke and fog and haze and the ever-changing lights. "I need something to swallow it with." 

"Wuss." Syle laughed at her, and she paid him no attention. 

"This thing is _huge._" She grimaced. True, the pill, in all it's white glory, was approximately one inch in length and half a centimeter in width. 

"Chew it." Her roommate chorused. "Like those vitamins for kids."

"Forget it." She shook her head. "I'm going over there to the bar to order something. Besides, I'm thirsty."

"So unlike you." He chanted. "So unlike you."

"Shut the fuck up."

She walked in pace with the rhythm, and every time she put her foot down, the ground would rumble, and it was almost as if she was making the ground shake, like _she _was that powerful. She pushed her way through the squirming, writhing bodies, all of them sweating, some of them naked from the waist up. The jewelry glittered as it bounced up and down, hitting air and then skin, the hair glistening with sweat. And over there, on the other side, she looked so cool, calm, collected, that supposed lawyer her two faggots had named 'Miss Justice.' Somewhere in her memory, she could recall her, something about her, something wonderful she had done, but then again, she couldn't remember. The pill clenched in her hand wouldn't make it much better, either. 

The seat next to 'Miss Justice' and her pussycat was open, and Utena sat down, signaling to the bartender. "Just water." 

"Just water?" The lap-cat smirked as she played with the lawyer's tie. Utena noted with some surprise that the lap-cat was the same woman at the salon the other day. 'Shirley,' or 'Swirlies,' or something like that. She was wearing some metal corset with leather ties and it didn't look too comfortable. The leather miniskirt hitching up her crotch didn't look like it would keep her from catching a cold, either. She wore simple ankle boots, and Utena saw those fingers sliding up and down them, caressing them. 

Her water came, and Utena looked into her hand at her pill, at the water, which didn't look like it was spiked with anything, but how would she know? She put the thing into her mouth and took a long gulp of water, feeling the foreign object slide down her throat as she swallowed. 

"Do you want anything?" 'Miss Justice,' or 'Wonder Woman,' or whatever her name was-- asked her. Utena blinked a couple times, and then shook her head 'no.' The eyes just sort of looked at her, and then looked at her lap cat, who was now peeking into her shirt. 

"Get off." She said, without raising her voice, but it was clear, low. 

"Me?" An indignant toss of short magenta-streaked hair and the batting of fake eyelashes. Her legs opened a bit further to straddle her, the skirt rode up and exposed more thigh. "You want me to get off?" Her voice was light and airy, almost girlish, completely opposite of the muttering tone Utena heard at the salon.

"Yes, cat, pet." The lawyer said. "Get off."

"I'll do that." A rustle of leather against cloth, Utena could hear it even with the music pounding in the background, which sounded strange to her ears, now. And then, without bothering to pull the skirt down, the short-haired woman walked away. 

"Are you sure you don't want a drink?" 

"No." Utena found herself muttering. "I'm fine."

"It's on me." 

__

It's on-- She coughed. "No, really, it's fine." Now that she was here, she noted those curls were orange, her eyes were greenish-blue, teal. Cold, very calculating.

"Jerry." She extended her hand, so formal. 

The lights flashed orange, for a split second.

__

There are no miracles--

"Utena." She announced herself, shaking the offered hand. Her name was a man's name-- but what was she supposed to expect? Typical lesbian here in front of her, except for the fact that she was gorgeous as hell, without the gallons of makeup that others seemed to carry about on their faces. 

"I've seen you here before." Jerry stated, as if they had met before on a summer cruise. "You come here often."

__

Stupid. Amnesia. She shook her head. "I guess I do."

"And I suppose you know them?" The curly-haired woman pointed up to where the bathrooms were, the popular niche-corner, where her roommate and his boyfriend were now engaged in eating each other. 

"I do." She murmured, looking down at her glass of water. "Unfortunately."

The low voice laughed quietly. "I knew the red-headed one back in middle school." 

"That's funny--" She said, feeling that this conversation was slightly corny and lame and out of character for the both of them. "He said the same thing--"

__

And then-- 

__

Purple waves--

Her eyes darted to the entrance, where somehow, suddenly, a person had materialized, and from all the way across the dance floor, through the mists and the flashing lights and the crowds of people, she seemed to be able to see the person face-to-face-- the dark skin, the wide, startling green eyes, and the mass of wavy hair that seemed to cascade like a waterfall down her back, the way she held herself, so demurely, her hands, fingers clasped in front of her like she was a little schoolgirl on her way to Sunday morning church, and she wore a white hat on her head, the most ridiculous pastel-pink outfit that looked like something somebody would wear to Mass, her shoes were white, she carried a white bag, and some animal rode on her shoulder, something that looked like a mouse. 

__

Hair like that-- 

The vision was still there, still hadn't disappeared.

Those green eyes were piercing, they were electrifying. But they were tired, very, very, tired, world-weary, and fatigued-- like she knew so many things but couldn't tell one of them because they were secrets, great secrets, horrible secrets. But the way she stood, the way she held herself-- straight up, like she was proud, unafraid, staring at danger in its face, not laughing, but looking at it. She looked like she had seen the devil himself, among many other things. She had seen things, known of secular things. And yet, she seemed full of life, ready to start something new, ready to cast away all the old and break out of her shell, new, invigorated. It was like that, something like that. 

Then it was as if they locked eyes, from opposite corners, sides of the dance hall, the club, and they stared at each other as they couldn't believe it, she for a different reason and Utena for her own. And suddenly those green eyes lit up, the dark cloud over them gone, and those lips curved up, tentatively, in the most beautiful smile she had ever seen, and there seemed to be a visible aura of happiness that surrounded her, bright, vibrant. Her lips moved, Utena observed, and her head turned, slightly, to the animal that was perched on her shoulder, and the chittering thing seemed to nod as well, and then those pairs of eyes were fixed on her, again.

"She's pretty, isn't she." The curly-haired lawyer leaned in, whispering in Utena's ear, and reminded her of her presence. They were both staring at the same person, in the same direction. The dark-skinned girl was making her way towards her, trying to, jostled this way and that way through the mass of bodies, and she seemed so tiny, insignificant, in the mess of squirming flesh and gaudy lights, so out of place. The animal on her shoulders had disappeared into her hat, but her eyes never left Utena's as she made her way through, never pushing, always letting others move in front of her. 

__

So patient. Was the thought. _So lenient._

"She's new." The low voice had a hint of a laugh in it, but it wasn't one that was directed at anybody. "And such a pretty girl. A rose out of the weeds." 

"Rose--"

__

Bride.

"I don't remember." Utena gasped, eyes widening, the world turning black, turning grey. The drug was starting to take effect, finally. "I don't remember." 

"Don't remember?" Jerry whispered in her ear, lips almost touching the lobe. "You knew her? Lucky you." 

"No--no--" Utena stood up, and immediately felt the world crumble around her, the edges melting away, the sharp corners falling down, and she saw things as if she was holding her head at an angle. Frantically, she looked for her roommate, he wasn't there. Nowhere. The place was filled with strange people she didn't know, primal instincts, base desires, and this wasn't what the girl approaching them was coming for. She knew something. And Utena didn't know what she knew, didn't want to know. She'd seen her somewhere before, yes, she knew that much. And she didn't know anything else. "I don't _remember_--"

"Strange, funny." The voice came at her from behind her through a world of water and smoke, she could barely hear it, yet it was heard with perfect clarity. "She seems to know you." 

"I'm not like that," popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Jerry suppressed a smile, and leaned back on the stool.

"Really?"

"I'm fucking sure I'm not like that." Utena muttered, clutching at her hair. "No, no, no, no--" 

"Look at her, though." The lawyer mused, sitting back in her chair. "If you won't, then I'll take her. Home." 

"Oh, but you can't!" A voice cut through Utena's haze, and Jerry turned around. There was her Cat, standing there, half-naked, a semi-indignant look on her face. Her hands were place indignantly on her hips as she leaned in, taking the cigarette out of her mouth and blowing smoke all over Utena's face. She turned to Jerry and smiled prettily, eyes narrowing. "You promised _me _that I'd be on your agenda tonight." 

"I suppose so." Jerry acknowledged with a slight nod, and stood up fluidly, before her Cat could sit in her lap again. "But I could always make exceptions." She cast a sideways glance at the awkward, pink-haired college student, who was looking back between them two and the approaching dark-skinned girl. "Would you like to come with?"

The Cat hooked an expanse of leg around Jerry's own, entwining her own arm around hers. "Maybe." She sneered, but smiling, all the same. "It'd be interesting, don't you think? Us three, on her king-sized bed, I'm sure she'd enjoy making _you_ writhe--"

"I trust you will keep everything discreet." The lawyer gracefully bent down and gave the whore a chaste kiss on the lips. "As for tonight, it was enough to see you here." She smiled benignly at Utena, who didn't exactly register what was being said to her. "Maybe I'll replace her," she gestured towards the indignant Cat, "with you, someday."

"Don't you _dare._" The Cat pouted adorably, clawing at her shirt front. "I couldn't bear it." She hooked her arms around her neck, breathing heavily, mock-crying. 

"Good night." Jerry brushed a strand of hair aside from Utena's face, tucking it behind her ear. "I'll see you again, won't I?"

And then they walked off, leaving her flustered and confused and the lights still flickering, the music still pounding. The world spun again, spun again, and she realized that somehow, somewhere, a weight had been lifted off her heart, her mind, and she wanted to dance with the rest of them, join in with them. But she didn't, at the same time. She wanted to be a spectator and watch as if it was a spectator's sport.

"Utena?" A soft, melodic voice called, and she turned around, suddenly afraid. It was the dark-skinned girl, her cap askew on her head, her clothes rumpled after her journey through the mass of bodies. And she was covered in dust and in dirt, although she didn't carry an odor. Like a rose sprung up from the ground. There was something clean about her, yet her appearance made it clear she had been traveling. Her eyes shone even in the darkness, almost emitting a glow of their own, bright orbs of happiness and satisfaction and contentment. Something was wrong, Utena thought desperately. She didn't know this girl. And she didn't want to know her, because there was something she was _supposed _to know. 

__

From this day forward

You are the Victor

and I am your flower

I am the Rose Bride

She didn't say anything, didn't look to acknowledge the voice. She merely wondered, wondered at many things, like how the light was so many different colors, why her breathing felt so constricted, why she felt like crawling on the floor and flying up in the sky at the same time, so many things--

"Utena." The voice came again, and a hand brushed her bare shoulder, she wanted to brush it away. "Do you know me?"

__

I don't know you. She thought, desperately. _Should I?_

"It's Anthy--"

__

anthy, anthy, anthy, anthy. should i know an anthy? there's no anthy, no rose bride, i don't understand why am i so upset it must be that pill, that pill, stupid chemicals in my body, raging around like wild horses on a desert plain

"I'm Anthy--"

__

wild horses, stampede, running things over, running over my rational thought, who's anthy? i should remember. i can't remember things anymore. i couldn't remember since i woke up. i'm not that way. i'm not a faggot, a dyke. why do i keep worrying, then? who are you

"Look at me."

__

voice is heartbroken? no, not heartbroken. no, not yet

She clutched her head, things were spinning around. Why had she come here again? Because she had been convinced to. That was right. Remember, above all things, don't forget again. It's not bad when you forget but you feel bad because you don't remember. Things happen all around you and you won't know why. Remember things. Remember that there is a government that supports the idea of a welfare state. Remember that the sign of the antilog is represented by a ten-x, remember those things. Remember you have a test next week about Freud. The lights were confusing, they kept moving. _Stop, stop, make them stop._

They didn't. The world didn't wait for her. 

"Anthy?" She found herself saying under her breath. "Anthy?"

"It's the first time somebody's escaped." The dark-skinned girl beside her murmured. "All the other times, Akio was the Victor. And he never wanted to escape. But it's different this time. You won. This is your revolution."

"This is my revolution?" She laughed, giddily. "Excuse me?"

"You remember, though, don't you?" Those eyes were cast down. "You opened the Rose Gate. You made your wish. And then you escaped."

"You're crazy." Utena found herself saying, standing up. "I don't understand a fucking word you're saying. I don't even know you." 

She saw the eyes blink, uncomprehending, for a moment. Then they looked up at her, widening, unbelieving, yet accepting some sort of grim truth, at the same time. "Oh." She said, voice bleak. "Oh."

"Don't sit there and feel sorry for yourself." She snapped, laughing at the same time. How could such different emotions run through her at the same time? She didn't understand it. There was nothing to understand. This girl in front of her was pathetic. Who did she think she was, running up to her like this, as if there was some big secret she needed to know, needed to find out? 

__

What purpose?

"Shut up." She said, and everything blackened out except for the two of them. "Shut the _fuck _up. I don't want to hear it." And without knowing what she was doing, she leaned in, angrily, and caught that upturned face, turning the face to the left and then to the right, admiring the high cheekbones, the full lips, the eyes. Something strange about her. Weird. Mystery.

__

You'll tell me if anything's wrong. I'll always be here, you know.

She didn't remember. 

And she realized she was kissing her, without knowing why, fingers running through her hair, thick, over her shoulders, like water, ripples, tasting the dust on her lips, the faint smell of lingering roses, clean, pure, and yet tainted, in some way, and it was familiar, and not, and it was strange, strange, to be kissing somebody she didn't know, said she didn't know, but how could it be familiar, so many different things, conflicting things, the feelings, the tastes, the emotions, the smells, the look in her eyes, like a deer caught in headlights, like a rabbit ready to bolt--

__

Wait wait wait wait wait stop 

She pulled back abruptly, and the world fell back into pieces around her, she was back where she was, the girl she let go, panting heavily, clutching at her mouth, hunched over, tears falling from her eyes. 

"Cut it out." She breathed out herself, not wanting to know why she did that. She just did. And it wasn't because it felt right, it felt good, or anything like that. It hurt. And it was a _good _kind of hurt. "Stop your fucking crying and let's get out of here."

The dark-head lifted, stature broken, for some reason. Her hand slowly fell from her mouth, and her lips were bruised, swollen, and Utena felt a mark of satisfaction, that _she _had done that. 

__

Such a pretty rose.

"You've been fucking living off the fucking streets, haven't you?" She didn't ask, she stated. Grabbing her hand, she reveled in the feeling of her stiff, cold, fingers, not wanting to clasp hers. That was fine. That was okay. "Fucking streets." 

"The streets." The dark-skinned girl whispered, shaking her head. "I didn't know. Streets?"

"The _streets._" Utena gritted out, dragging her across the dance floor. "The road, the pavement, the black _asphalt._ Brick walls. Where did you sleep?"

She didn't answer.

"I don't know who you _are, _or what you're _doing _here." She felt like screaming, yelling to the world. "But you're coming with me."

"Yes, Utena." The soft voice said, submissive. "Whatever you say." 

__

There's a good girl. She felt like saying, felt like whipping her, hitting her, over and over again. She didn't know why. There was no way to describe this, the frustration, the coldness, the anger.

The strange content. 

__

There's something back again. She thought, as they reached the doors. _I don't know what._

And then they were outside, and it was cold, the wind drifted, calmly, through the sky. The air wasn't choking them, the smells were clean, fresh. The moon was hidden behind a fog of clouds, the stars glittered, like they were laughing, all with them, along with them, at them. _Shut up, _she felt like screaming, hoarse. _You don't understand._

__

No, YOU don't. They whispered back to her.

The dark-skinned girl who called herself 'Anthy' kept her head bowed down, and pretended she didn't hear, although the tears still ran down her face. 


	3. reminiscent

****

Rhapsody Theorem

[ part 3 ]

__

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

__

Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surrealness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. Rated NC-17 for the themes mentioned above, language, as well as... implied sex? I guess so.

__

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one take, and highly unlikely. By the way, this has no relation to my previous RGU fanfic, "Ugh... Men." You might be able to catch the deja-vu similar-names of the 'Real World' characters to the 'Ohtori World' characters...

****

Radishface

__

Sometimes, you know, it's like it's all dark outside.

Dark outside?

When it's raining.

But it never rains here.

You've seen it raining, though, I know it.

You know my dreams? 

I know you were rescued, and it was raining outside.

Do you know who saved me?

Yes, I know.

Will you tell me? Is he my prince?

He's a dark man. A tall, dark man. 

Dark?

And he does dark things. He'll do something to you if you come save me. He doesn't want anybody to come save me. 

But why?

Because he's selfish.

Do you hate him? 

He's the prince. But not anymore.

Do you hate him?

No, I love him.

Why doesn't he save you?

Because he doesn't love me.

She woke up again, and many things were the same. The African violet was still there, straining towards the sunlight. The shadow from the tree was still there. Her sheets were wrinkled from sleeping in them, and the wet patch on the ceiling had not grown. 

Still the same.

Something different.

She could hear the faint cracking and sizzling of something cooking outside, the smell of pancakes and bacon and eggs and she wondered where they had gotten all the food. Was it Doug? But no, she had taken the car last night and driven it home without waiting for him. Why hadn't she waited for him? 

__

Anthy--

She jumped out of bed, half out of surprise, half out of anger, and ran out of the bedroom, slamming open the door as she barged into the kitchen. The girl turned around, mildly surprised at her entrance, and smiled a nervous smile, one dark hand on the frying pan, the other holding an egg. A bottle of cooking oil rested on the counter, which was spotless. The dishes from yesterday had been washed. Utena looked at the entire kitchen. Everything had been scrubbed clean. The tiles shone their original color-- white. The term papers and books on the kitchen table had been removed and placed in neat stacks on the bookshelf. The living room's carpet did not wear scraps of food from three months ago. The television was dusted. The lampshades were straightened. 

"What the _fuck _do you think you're doing?" She found herself yelling. "Acting like you're my goddamn _housewife_??" 

The dark-skinned girl blinked twice, and a look of hurt crept into her eyes, but she shook her head, and then they were happy again, sparkling. "I cleaned up the complex for you a bit, Utena." She smiled, a beautiful smile, so out of place in this ugly world. "And I decided I would make you breakfast." 

"Don't play around with me like that." She muttered, storming over to the kitchen table and pulling back the chair violently, sitting down, resting her head in her hands. "What the _hell..._" 

"If it displeases you--"

"It doesn't _displease _me, no." She gritted out, angrily. "I just barely know you and you're cleaning everything up. I didn't hire you as a maid."

  
"So I was brought back to your house like a common whore, is that right?"

Utena blinked and turned to look at the dark-skinned girl, who had carefully turned her face away. A white mouse crawled up her shoulder and chitted there, nibbling at a bit of cracker. She couldn't have just said that. It would have been totally out of character.

"Did we do anything?" She ventured, cautiously, struggling to keep the anger out of her tone. 

"No." A dark hand cracked the egg on the edge of the pan, and Utena watched as the egg white and the yolk dripped into the pan, making a sizzling, cracking, popping sound as it hit the cooking oil and the heat. "We didn't do anything." 

She was relieved, so relieved. She was still... relatively straight. The drugs must have done something. She remembered Jerry, the gentle coolness radiating off her, and she remembered kissing Anthy, and she didn't remember why-- but it must have been whatever she took that night. At least she only took one. Not more. Any more would have pushed her over the edge again. Today was Sunday. She didn't have any classes today. They started tomorrow. There were no tests, no papers due. It was a listening day.

__

Just listen. 

She heard the eggs crackle and pop as they cooked, she heard the slight rustling of cloth as Anthy shifted her weight from her left foot to her right foot. The little mouse on her shoulder chittered, and made tiny sounds as it ate it's cracker, nibbling away on it. The clock by the stove ticked and tocked in time, the refrigerator hummed. 

Anthy was wearing the same thing she wore last night, and it wasn't rumpled from sleeping in, as Utena thought it might have been. She herself was dressed in what she was wearing last night, with the exception of the boots. Those lay by the doorway, both knocked over. Doug was going to have a fit when he got back-- they were his, after all. 

Utena scrubbed at her eyes, and stared at Anthy out of her peripheral vision, taking it all in. Here was this girl who had just come around yesterday, who had probably _followed _her into this club, _stalked _her, and assumed she knew her. Which was the scary thing. Maybe she was a government agent, sent to track her down-- but that wouldn't make any sense. There were a billion other college kids who did illegal drugs and went to illegal parties and things like that and the majority of them had not been (to her knowledge), arrested. And what was the mouse for? How did it stay so tame? Just perching on her shoulder like that, eating the cracker-- must be tamed. Maybe this girl came from the circus and they were going to hire her drug routine for the main act. 

But really. Dark skin... had a slight Indian look to her. No, not Native American Indian. Asian Indian. She even had a bindi on her head, which Utena didn't notice last night. Sort of a red dot on the middle of her forehead, with a red tear-like thing below it. Weren't Indians psychic or something? They could read minds, she had read somewhere. Or something like that. And what was the bindi supposed to symbolize? A third eye or something like that? The red dot with the 'tear' below it could have been just that. An inner self, crying tears of blood. Or maybe she was making it up. 

"Where did you sleep?" She found herself asking, and immediately regretted it. It would make her sound like she cared. Which she didn't. Fucking strange girl, just popping in like she knew who the hell everybody was.

"Over there." The dark-skinned girl gestured over to the couch in the living room with her chin. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I mind." She snapped, her lips quirking. "It's my couch."

"You invited me."

Utena didn't say anything, only continued to unabashedly stare at this girl who was making _her _breakfast. Did she ask for it? No. But it smelled good. And she was hungry. 

"You're going to leave today." She said, getting up. "Do you have any bags?"

Anthy stepped back suddenly from the stove, as if she had burned herself. The animal on her shoulder squeaked, and then crawled into her mass of hair. She looked up, again, there was that hurt, disbelief, and the foundations of anger that hadn't been used in a long time. Maybe she didn't know how to be angry. Then she returned back to the stove, blithely turning the eggs over so that the yolk was on the other side. "I didn't pack any bags, Utena. Just that one over there." She pointed on the couch, where a simple white bag lay. There was a green handkerchief with white swirls on it next to her bag. Utena walked over to them, and opened it, scouring the contents. There was a simple change of clothes-- a red summer dress, to be exact. And nothing else that was important. And the green handkerchief had cookie crumbs and cracker crumbs in it. She shook it out disgustedly so that they fell onto the carpet, and turned back to look at her.

"I'm sorry." Anthy smiled. "That's Chu Chu's." She turned to the white thing nestled on her shoulder. "Isn't that right?"

"That thing?" Utena shook it again, and Anthy nodded, barely. "It belongs to that rat of yours?"

Anthy looked surprised, but managed to look nonchalant about it. 

So patient. So mild.

"Chu Chu's a rat?" She asked, softly, sliding the eggs onto a plate, and then setting the black pan back on the stove. 

"Looks like one." Utena dropped the handkerchief back onto the couch. "Isn't it?" 

"I don't know." Anthy said carefully. "Is he?"

"Are you _blind?_" Utena huffed. "Of course it's a rat! A fucking _lab _rat! Of course it's a rat! It's albino, rodent family!"

"If you say so." She said, and turned to opening the drawers, picking out a fork for the eggs. She walked over to where Utena had been sitting and set the eggs down, next to a plate of toast. "For you."

"What makes you think I eat conventional breakfasts like that?" 

"I assumed you did."

"You assume too much."

That hurt again, the disbelief. But she was quiet. "Whatever you say."

But she sat down anyway, and ate them. They were savory, somehow cooked better than when her roommate made her breakfast. The eggs had the right amount of salt on them, the toast was crisped just right. And she could tell Anthy was watching her out of the corner of her eyes with some unidentifiable expression as she watched Utena wolf down her breakfast like a ravenous animal. 

"Where did you come from?" She suddenly asked, swallowing what she had in her mouth and nearly choking on the huge lump sliding down her throat. 

Anthy was silent, her hands fiddling in her lap, twisting the material of the apron as the rat squeaked on her shoulder. "Ohtori." She replied, after awhile. 

"Where's that?" She asked, but didn't look at her.

"It's a school." 

"You should have stayed there."

"I couldn't have." 

"Why not?" 

"You went there, too." Anthy was whispering, now, as she stopped twisting her hands, stopped wringing them as if she was worried about something. There was nothing to be worried about, except for the fact that she couldn't possibly _stay _another night and would have to find someplace new to go to. Temporary shelter, that was all that was last night. Utena could be a Good Girl once in a while too, and offer a roof for a homeless person now and then. Except the dark-skinned girl didn't exactly look... _homeless, _when she had seen her. Just happy. 

"I never went to Ohtori, or whatever you call it. I've been in this neighborhood for my entire life." Utena pursed her lips tightly. "My entire life."

"You don't remember?" Anthy asked, suddenly walking over and sitting down, looking over at her across the table, intently, in her eyes. Green eyes, just as intense, just as invigorating, as they had been last night. Utena repressed the shiver in her spine. 

"Remember what?" 

"Remember Ohtori." 

"I don't. There's no Ohtori, whatever the name is." She scowled. As good as the breakfast was, she didn't appreciate this conversation. She was crazy. Anthy, or whatever her name was, was completely crazy. Insane. "You're talking bullshit."

"Do you remember a Prince?" She murmured, not defeated yet, but looking away, somewhere else. "Do you remember a Revolution? The Duels?"

"Nothing." Utena felt a wave of something surge up inside her, remembrance mixed with anger and confusion and frustration. "I don't remember a single fucking _thing._"

"I followed you outside to your Revolution, Utena." The dark-skinned girl was saying, even more quietly, now, just as intensely, but without the vigor she had a minute ago. "This is your world now. I followed you outside. This is what you wished for when you grabbed my hand."

"I never grabbed your hand." She protested angrily. But she had. Just last night. 

"The _coffin, _Utena." A tinge of desperation had entered her voice, made it all the more lonely, the more hurt, the more black and grey and darkest of blues. "The Sword of Dios--"

"I've never been in a coffin for my entire _living _life!" She screamed suddenly, standing up with a jerk, slamming her hands on the table. "_What the hell makes you think I've been inside a coffin?!"_

__

How does she know? Utena thought, desperately. _How does she know, when my mother and father died, when they died in that fucking car accident, that I crawled into their coffins? That night in the church? When they were dead, when I didn't have anything else left, that I wanted to die with them?--_

The dark-skinned girl merely stared, now, the white mouse in her hair shivering, somewhere. 

"I don't remember." Utena replied, suddenly calm. "I don't remember, and it's useless of you to try and talk me out of it." 

Those green eyes quivered with unspoken emotion, then looked away.

"Well, if this is what you wished for." She said, softly, so softly she had to learn in to catch the words, straining to hear them. "You wished to forget everything?"

She had, hadn't she? Utena shook her head, minutely. When she popped the pills in her mouth, injected the needles into her arm. She had done it all those times to forget something. Something. And she didn't remember what. But it couldn't have been a wonderful thing to remember. Or maybe it was something worth remembering, something that _was _wonderful, something worth laughing and crying over and maybe she wanted to forget it because she felt she didn't deserve it. 

"Remember?" Utena asked herself, under her breath. "Forget."

Anthy didn't hear her, kept murmuring to herself, her knuckles in her mouth, and she was rocking back and forth in her chair. "You wanted to forget everything. I know, I know, now, you wanted to forget the Student Council, the Duels, the Stairway, the Gondola, the Rose Garden, the Victories, your Prince, the Rose Bride, your Princess, _me. _

You wanted to forget me." She murmured, intense, eyes wide open, and her rocking grew more and more frantic, although she still did not look up into Utena's eyes. "_Didn't you?_" 

It came back then, in a myriad of images, the images, feeling, wind blowing on her face as she climbed up the stairs, a draft around her body as she was suddenly naked, stripped of her clothing, and a slight tingling as somehow, a Prince's attire fit around her body, snug, a sword materialized out of this girl's chest, not solid, not matter, but still the strongest material in that world, and the kiss that would turn the sword red, vanquish her enemies, climb higher and higher, and the desks, the reconfiguration, and the telescope, the chocolates, umbrellas, the planetarium, the stars, the camera-- 

Clouds, clouds of white rose petals. And Utena stared up, wildly, one of her hands tangled in her hair. She didn't know what she was supposed to say. 

"I didn't forget anything," She said, cursing the words as she said them, "because they never _happened _in the first place. What the _hell _are you talking about? Princes belong in Medieval and Renaissance times. Princesses, damsels in distress, they don't exist. I'm not a prince. You're living in a fucking time warp." Her voice faltered, her resolution started to break. 

"Let me stay with you--" Utena heard skin rip as Anthy bit through the skin of her knuckles, heard her choke back her sobs. She was shaking, tears, crystalline, dripping down her face and onto her skirt, but her face wasn't contorted, she looked almost insane, rocking like that, staring desperately at nowhere, seemingly calm but not. "Let me stay with you, please, _please_--" She groped with her other hand for Utena's own, which was lying motionless on the table. It was like she was trapped in the dark, afraid to move, searching for something to hold onto. 

Utena didn't say anything, tried to force the images out of her head as she felt her hand be gripped, weakly, timid fingers curling around her own. And as they clasped hands, she felt an electric shock jolt through her fingers, and she wanted to pull back, like she had been burned. But she wasn't burned, there was no burning, witches were burnt, but that was a long, long, time ago. But some witches weren't burned-- impaled, millions, millions, of swords, full of hate, aimed towards them, when in truth, they ddin't do anything wrong, weren't guilty of anything, right? 

Right? 

"You can stay." She said, unable to recognize her own voice, it was low and it was dry, parched. Her own eyes were glazed, staring off into a different space than those green eyes were, but seeing the same things, different perspectives.

Anthy kept rocking back and forth, back and forth, sobs racking her throat, crying without a reason, but Utena didn't let go of her hand, even though she wasn't aware of it, and gradually, Anthy stopped, and sat in her chair quietly, head still cast down, and they listened to the sounds coming out of the half-open window, cars zooming by, the faint chirp of a bird, somewhere, the bustle of people as they walked past. 

When Doug returned home, he saw Utena on the couch, watching a game of baseball. He straightened the leather boots which were turned over by the door, and then proceeded to gripe about _if _Utena was going to bring some little hot thing home with her in the jeep, couldn't she have waited for him as well? It was a good thing Syle was there, because otherwise, he would have been stuck at that _awful _party until the next-next-next day. So he _had _to go spend the night at Syle's place, which wasn't all that bad (whether the flamboyant roommate was referring to the actual place itself or the activities he participated on a certain king-sized bed, Utena didn't bother to figure out), but _please, _would Utena remember to turn her cell phone on the next time, as well? And _if _she was engaged in full-frontal _snogging,_ as the English called it, she _would _remember to check her messages at a later time? Thank you. And dear me, what a lovely job you've done in straightening this place up! Did you do it this morning--? Oh. 

And then Syle had proceeded to come into their cleaned dorm room, looking around with slight awe on his face, and while Doug was happily greeting the flustered dark-skinned girl, who had shyly brought them all drinks, Earl Grey tea, to be exact, Utena merely sighed and buried her head under a pillow, not caring if the stupid baseball had flown towards the bleachers and the runner had made a home run. She hadn't been watching the game, really. She'd been thinking about how strange it was, the course of events that had happened, what images had went through her head, enacting some sort of a nightmarish dream that played out like a twisted fairy tale. 

"Utena, if I can say something--" 

It was two in the morning, and Utena knew that if Anthy had known she was asleep, she wouldn't have bothered talking to her. The dark-skinned girl's voice had a note of hesitance to it, though, and Utena tossed in her bed. It was strangely comforting and annoying to hear Doug say that he'd _gladly _give up his bed to this wonderful little girl that Utena had brought home (despite all her half-hearted protests) and he would sleep on the couch. Syle merely raised an eyebrow when he heard this and invited her roommate to come sleep at his place for a couple of days but Doug had merely replied that no matter how much he enjoyed the company, one of these days, he _would _have to get some _sleep._ So Syle had left with an amused glance on his face, and Utena had gotten to keep her bed. 

She could hear her roommate snoring slightly, outside. 

"Say it." She gritted. "And let me get back to sleep."

"You know that woman you were sitting next to the other night?"

How could she forget? Luscious curls and cool glance that was compassionate but calculating and a strange, knowing smile-- Jerry, of course, that ridiculously beautiful lesbian with the catty whore clawing her way up her shirt. 

"Yes."

"She reminds me of Juri."

"Her name is Jerry." Utena grumbled. "A friggin' guy's name."

"Of course, Utena."

__

There are no miracles--

"And your roommate."

"Hm?" She was falling asleep again.

"He reminds me of Touga." 

Utena remembered she had said that name once. She didn't remember why.

"Touga?" She murmured, and felt fingers through her hair.

A slight muffled laugh sounded from Anthy's direction, and Utena felt too tired to be annoyed. She had to get up early tomorrow for her class. What the hell was so funny?

"Although Touga would _never _act like that."

"Is that so."

"And his boyfriend-- lover-- what is he?"

"Syle. His fuck-of-the-month."

Anthy didn't seem to hear this obscenity, and if she did, she casually brushed it off. "Of course. Reminds me of Saionji."

"I have no idea who you're talking about, just shut the hell up." She turned over in her bed again to face her, and somewhere along the way, she lost her voice. The green eyes were infinetly sad, even though those lips were curled in a half-smile. Strange, strange, expression.

"You picture everybody." Anthy said, her lips barely moving. "This is your world, you pictured everybody from Ohtori and put them here, and they're all the same. You imagined everybody here except for me."

"Good point." Utena snorted, playing along. "You were probably _just _the person I didn't want to see, out here, 'in this world.'" She mimicked. 

"Is that so." Anthy turned in her bed, facing away, facing her side of the wall. "I see."

There was a strange comfort in knowing that Anthy wouldn't talk anymore, and a strange comfort in not knowing what she was talking about.

But, but, I want to know, something in Utena's mind cried out, lost and helpless. What is this?

__

What does it mean?

__

And when we break out of here, we'll go somewhere.

Where will we go?

I don't know. Somewhere, away from here.

It's not bad here.

It could be better.

Have I know of anything better?

You haven't. That's why I'm taking you. 

- - - - - 

PLEASE R&R…? ::big, teary eyes:: It will make me feel so much better if you do. Who doesn't want comments? This is my first Utena multi-part fanfic… ::bawls like a baby::

Okay, okay, I'll shut up now. =_= But still. Reviews are wonderful to receive. 


	4. date

__

And when we break out of here, we'll go somewhere.

Where will we go?

I don't know. Somewhere, away from here.

It's not bad here.

It could be better.

Have I know of anything better?

You haven't. That's why I'm taking you.

And it will be different?

Yes.

A new beginning?

Yes.

A new morning?

Yes. 

Dawn.

"Good morning, Miss Tenjou." 

Her eyes snapped open, as it seemed the day always started. She'd wait for them to focus, for the world to focus around her. And then she would realize where she was, what she was supposed to be doing. And she'd never apologize, never say she was sorry, except to herself. 

This time, her psychology professor, tall and thin and gangly, brown hair neatly trimmed and parted from the right, was staring at her with a good-natured expression on his face. A few strands of hair were in disarray with the rest of his part, but otherwise, he was the picture of neatness. His suit was bright-colored and pressed, shoulders broad and the wrinkles in his pants were even on both sides. She grimaced, but managed to grit out a smile, anyway.

"Oh." She said, and then resumed a regular slouch-sitting position, as he walked back to the front of the classroom, and she received a few looks from the other students, some of amusement and some of annoyance. College professors rarely did that-- check up on students, that is. They let the sleeping dogs lie. And truly, what a bitch _she_ was. 

"And that's your homework." The professor stated, and suddenly class was dismissed. Utena was bewildered. She had just woken up, hadn't she? How strange. 

"What _was _the homework?" She found herself asking as she sought out Doug, her reliable (if not gay) roommate. He looked deep in thought. They stood, sort of blocking the doorway, as students crowded around them to get out. Their professor had returned to his desk, clicking around on is computer. Probably surfing the internet for pornography, Utena mused wryly.

"He just asked us to think about the question he asked."

"What question?"

Her red-haired roommate sighed, and then turned to walk out the door.

"_What_ question?" Her curiosity was piqued. Usually she enjoyed psychology class-- such interesting things to talk about, about the human mind, that sort of thing. Doug, however, took more interest in the government classes offered on campus. Utena found it a waste of time. Besides, Doug's goddamned boyfriend, Syle was a goddamned anarchist, playing in that punk band in his spare time. What the hell was he studying government philosophies and policies for? She smiled. Probably so that when his boyfriend took over the world, he could rule over it himself.

"He just told us to think about the question he asked us." Doug's thoughtful frown had turned back into his usual sunny smile, with a tinge of mischief around the edges. "But as you weren't paying attention, I don't think I should tell you what it was."

"Come _on._" She rolled her eyes. "It's not another term paper assignment, though. We just turned one in last week."

"Correction," Doug announced, waggling his finger at her, "_I_ turned one in last week. _You,_ on the other hand, did _not._"

"I was busy." She muttered, not remembering what the hell she _was _doing last week when she was supposed to be working on it. 

"The question was, "Is it better to be popular and beautiful, or plain and ordinary?"" He snorted, derisively, almost. "It's such a simple answer you almost question the question itself."

"I guess so." Utena mused. It _was_ such a simple question, wasn't it? What was he thinking, assigning homework like that?

"It's due tomorrow, by the way." Doug sighed as he plopped down on a bench outside, and Utena sat down next to him, admiring the ass of the guy in tight black pants (but he wasn't gay, he _did_ have his arm around a girl) who just walked past. Dark complexion (either he was foreign or just had a really deep tan) and light hair. Staring at his back, she grinned to herself. Probably dyed his hair that color. And nice red shirt. Ruffly, a sort of poet-shirt, Renaissance-esque. And then there was her roommate, flamboyantly gay without a sense of style or dignity.

"I'll do it tonight."

"You'll screw your pretty bed-partner tonight." He grinned over at Utena, noticing her face had turned an astonishing shade of red. "You two should sleep together. I would like my bed back."

"If you want a bed, go to Saionji's place." She muttered, turning her head, trying to think of a better comment.

"Saionji?" Doug shook his head. "You mean Syle."

"That's right." Utena blinked. "Wasn't that what I said?"

"You said Saion-gee." Doug's face was scrunched up slightly, his lips pursed, as if he couldn't pronounce the name.

"Who the hell is that?"

"I don't know. You said the name first." 

She snorted. "Then I'm pretty fucked up. Look at all the things I've been saying, calling you Touga, acting like a screwball in front of the girl--"

"You like her, then?" Doug grinned, shading his eyes from the sun, which had chosen that opportune moment to come out of the clouds and shine down on the two of them. "It's like back in elementary school, where the girls would go running away from the guys they liked because they had 'cooties,' while the guys would relentlessly tease the girls because _they_ liked them."

"And with _you,_ it was always different." She hadn't meant for it to sound biting, but it came out caustically, not the joking tone she intended.

Doug was silent for a minute. "Well, it wasn't easy."

"What wasn't?"

"Coming out."

"Gee, I always assumed you were gay from the moment you were born."

"I wasn't."

"You had a girlfriend?" She was interested, suddenly, and cursed her short attention span.

"Back in high school." Doug turned and smiled, a bit wistfully, at her. "I was a junior, and she was a freshman. Didn't know what I was thinking." He sighed. 

"Oh."

"I was on the ASB, president of the junior class, and I won the senior elections as well." The wistful smile came back onto his face again. "I was so popular at the time. All the girls crowding at my feet..."

"You were a player?"

"Somewhat of one."

"But?"

"What?"

"You make it sound like there was a bad side to it. Besides, you're gay now."

"I don't know. I just ignored the friends I had made quite some time ago, my real friends. I don't know. I just sort of left them where they were. And then I sort of got over the girl, something happened to her or something, she transferred to a different school. And the thing was, I don't think I really liked her at all-- it was just that she didn't like _me,_ and I wanted the challenge. I guess." 

"What a fucked up story." Utena murmured, shaking her head, almost sorry for the poor guy. "But it's fitting, for a fucked up guy like yourself."

"I guess so."

It was silent for a while, and they listened to the people talking around them, not saying anything interesting. Then Utena spoke up again.

"So... when did you come out?"

He paused. "In my senior year."

"And...?"

"I came out to-- well... it was one of my old friends." A grin started on the corner of his mouth. "Syle, to be exact."

Utena blinked. "You two have known each other for that long?"

"Yeah."

"And how did he take it?"

"Oh, he was surprised. Not bad-surprised... one might say it was a good sort of surprise." He winked. "Very happy. Very gay."

"But you two have only been going out since... last... week."

"Friends don't change into lovers overnight, dear. It took us some time." 

"Hn." 

"We're hoooo~oooome!!!" Doug announced with a whoop, throwing his books down on the floor. Utena scoffed at him and set her books down on the kitchen table, ignoring the smile of the dark-skinned girl as she walked into her room and peeled her shirt off. It was damned hot today, more than ninety-something degrees outside, and even in a tank top she was drenched in her own sweat. Throwing the grey thing into the hamper, she opened the bureau--

And blanched. 

All her clothes had been neatly folded and put away, all of them pressed and ironed, all of them clean and smelling like peaches and soap. Her mouth thinned and she opened the top drawer-- yes, all her underwear was perfectly folded and stacked as well, the few pairs of socks she owned rolled into perfect balls of cloth and her bras organized by color. 

__

The Hell. She thought to herself, slamming the drawers shut and sitting on her bed, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head. She _had _a reason to be secretly pleased with it all. She had her own live-in maid who didn't complain about much. She had her own personal slave to do whatever she wanted, all because of some past thing she didn't recall, which probably never happened. Her roommate had often titled such experiences as 'love at first sight--' which he had experienced with many a man on the street who wore tight pants and tank tops. But she'd never seen this girl before. There was no time for her to fall in love with her. No time for that sort of bullshit. 

Doug's high-pitched enthusiastic squeal came from outside. "This is so _precious!_"

Utena looked up and noticed through the doorway that Doug was holding something and was prancing around with it, cooing insanely, while the dark-skinned girl stood off to the side, looking abashed, but at the same time, happy. Utena groaned to herself and stood up, walking outside.

"What'd she do now?" She asked, bored, positioning herself on the doorframe, arms crossed, not glancing at Anthy but knowing the hurt expression would be there with her callous tone, all the same.

"Oh... take a look." He presented Anthy's pet rat to Utena, which was wearing a small red tie with a yellow stripe on it and looking very clownish (but at the same time, distinguished) indeed. Utena scratched her head and squinted. There also seemed to be an earring in its ear. Strange, she hadn't noticed that before. 

"It's adorable." Utena replied, deadpan, and looked at Anthy, who was staring down at the floor with her head cast down. She huffed impatiently. 

"Utena, I appreciate the view, but go put a shirt on." Doug murmured, while stroking the rat's head, still cooing at it.

__

Oh. Utena stared down at herself. She had forgotten that she'd taken off her shirt and was now only in her sports bra and her pants from this morning. Mouth quirking, she didn't bother to cover herself-- she _did _work out, after all, and was absolutely _sure_ she did not look like she was in _need_ of _any_ sort of... modesty. Doug caught her eye and laughed, turning away to put the rat on the couch. Utena glared at his back, not meaning it, and then turned to Anthy, who had also looked away, a slight tinge of red on her cheeks, hands held demurely behind her back. 

Utena decided that she could either yell at Anthy's embarrassment, or laugh at it. She decided to do the latter. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" She smirked, sauntering over to the girl with dark skin, who suddenly looked up, flushed, and then looked back down again. 

"No."

"Are you gay?"

Anthy didn't reply, only looked away, her bottom lip trembling slightly, then firm. "No."

"Then stop looking at me."

The green eyes were still looking away. "I wasn't."

"Wasn't what?" Utena's smile was becoming dangerous, her voice bordering on a sneer. 

"I wasn't lying." Something trembling within those eyes, something threatening to break. "I wasn't."

"_Lying?_" Utena hissed, placing one hand on the wall behind Anthy, so she was almost shadowing her. "Lying about _what?_"

Anthy didn't say anything, lifted one timid hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and Utena seized it, trying to wrench the attention out of her if she needed to.

She saw the marks in the knuckles from yesterday, when Anthy had been hysterical, insane, rambling, shoving her hand in her mouth to try and quiet herself for no reason at all, and all Utena did was sit there and think about what the hell had been going on, why this felt familiar, why suddenly, everything seemed to present itself in a new perspective to her. 

Utena let go of it in disgust and pity and confusion. The dark hand withdrew immediately and was back again, behind Anthy's back, unseen.

Doug's coos subsided. When it had become completely silent in their dorm room, she spoke up again, looking Utena in the eye, smiling brightly, all of a sudden happy and joyous, the complete opposite of what she had just been, five minutes ago. 

"There's a message for you." She said, voice light and airy, stepping away from Utena's form and towards the phone. "I didn't pick it up, because I didn't know how you two usually reply."

"It's easy." Doug smiled as he strode in. "You just ask, 'hello?' And if you're feeling naughty, you can pretend to not speak English. You know, one time Syle did that when we woke up in the morning-- some sales person tried to call and he did _the_ most perfect imitation of a Chinese immigrant! 'Hallo? No speaking English! No speaking English! You want buy Wong's lobsta? Go try numba down de street!'" He imitated. "It was fantastic. I could barely stop laughing."

Anthy smiled at her roommate and shook her head. "I couldn't do that." She smiled benignly. "It's not fair to Chinese immigrants."

Doug's eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. "I can tell you're a goody-goody. Brought up in a sheltered community--" at this he sprang into melo-drama mode, clutching at his heart. "_oppressed_ by your family from the _moment_ you were born!" He cast a cocky grin at the both of them and noticed Anthy's bemused expression and Utena's scoffing one. "Am I right?"

"Somewhat." Anthy laughed, and strode over to the phone, pushed the 'play' button on the answering machine. "It's for you, Utena." Her voice diminished as she addressed the other girl. "Some person named Jerry tried to reach you this afternoon."

Instantly Utena's eyes brightened, although she forced the shine back when she saw Doug looking rather amusedly at her, sitting down on one of the chairs. "_Do_ tell." He smirked, not breaking eye contact with her as she felt herself slowly flush, turning red. "And this is from the girl who tells me she's not--"

"Shut up." Utena snapped, turning to the answering machine. Anthy backed away from the speaker, and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs as well, a slight smile on her face as her rat climbed up onto the table, nipping at her fingers, and she played with it, never making eye contact with either one of them as the message sounded. 

"Hello, Utena-- this is Jerry. I met you the other day at the club-- you left so suddenly I never got a chance to speak with you. I was wondering if you'd like to pick up our conversation again-- go out for dinner tonight? Give me a call back, my number is--" 

"Wow." Doug smirked, as he swiveled in his chair (and unfortunately, the kitchen chair wouldn't swivel, so he ended up falling out of it). "Dinner." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Utena, feeling all the more better and ecstatic from the message, decided she'd slap him later. 

"421-8789. Any time is convenient-- if you'd like to reschedule, that's fine as well. I look forward to seeing you again-- bye."

The machine clicked, and it was silent again in their room, even though the rat chitted and inside Utena's head, a billion things to say rolled and stormed around. 

__

Wow. Was her first coherent thought. _Me?_ _Dinner?_

"Apparently so." Doug was on the verge of laughing, and Utena realized she had spoken out loud. "Really." He said, trying to catch his breath, his mouth twitching. "You should learn to control yourself better, my dear."

"Shut the _hell_ up." Utena replied stonily, and grabbed a cushion off the couch and threw it at him. Doug caught it right before it hit his face. 

"So... are you going?" He asked, cowering behind the pillow so only the top part of his head showed, blue eyes peeking out over the material. "It's a _date,_ you know."

"It's _not._" Utena huffed, and crossed her arms, realizing she was still only in her bra--_ oh yeah, huh._ "Would _you_ miss the opportunity to eat good food with the second-richest person in the world? The woman is _loaded._ I wouldn't pass up on this chance for the world." Utena cast a sideways glance at Anthy, who averted her gaze as soon as their eyes met. She sighed. 

If that girl _was_ a dyke, at least she'd have enough common sense to know when there was _competition_ around. 

"So you're only using her?" Doug tsked, wagging his finger at her. "That's not very nice." 

"It's not." Utena huffed, and walked back into the bedroom, stretching and stifling a yawn. "But since when was I nice?"

"Good point." Doug called back. "Not for a long time."

"My point made." Utena retorted, throwing open her drawers and scavenging for clothes. She threw a clean blue tank top and a black knee-length skirt onto the bed, and quickly changed into those, running into the bathroom to brush her hair out, grimacing at the hard and brittle texture. What she wouldn't give for hair like Anthy's-- rich, volumous, dark, and shiny--

__

Shut up. She mouthed to herself. _What the HELL are you thinking like that for?!_

Summer nights were warm, but Utena decided, as an extra precaution, that she might as well bring a sweater or something anyway. Maybe that cute little jacket that Doug wore sometimes, the one with the fuzz on the collar. That was one of the advantages to having a gay roommate-- sometimes, they shopped in the women's department. And if they were the flamboyant type, you wouldn't be able to tell they were men's clothes at all. Or maybe she'd go with the beige half-length trench coat. 

__

Taking way too long... Her conscience whispered to her, mockingly. _You're taking too long for something you only consider a good meal!_

Eyebrows twitching, not sure whether to grin or to frown in the mirror, Utena hurried outside, nearly tripping over her heeled sandals as she was putting them on. Earning another amused glance from Doug (who smirked in his freakishly annoying way) and a surprised look from Anthy, she picked up the phone and dialed the number, running her fingers through her hair, an act that she always did when she was nervous.

Hell, she wasn't nervous now. It was just dinner. Just dinner.

Right.

"Hello-- Reson residence." 

__

Reson. Utena thought._ So that's her last name?_

"Um... hi. This is Utena. Tenjou." She mentally cursed herself. She was sounding like an absolute faggot already. "May I speak with Jerry, please?" 

"She's been expecting you." The voice on the other end had a tinge of amusement to it. "Please wait."

And so she waited, two pairs of eyes on her in their cramped dorm room, the blue ones belonging to Doug looking openly, the green ones belonging to Anthy looking furtively, timidly. Utena held her head up a little higher, just to show her, _I'm not afraid of you. I can do whatever the hell I want. You can live in your fucking time warp, just don't drag me into it. Clean the house. Scrub the fucking toilets. Fold my fucking underwear. But whatever you do, don't interfere with my life._

"Jerry speaking." The voice said, and Utena felt it run over her like water. She shivered slightly, although was determined not to let Doug or Anthy see it.

"Hi..." She began, feeling the urge to bite her nails. "This is Utena... I think you left a message on my answering machine about dinner tonight?" She laughed, nervously, and cursed herself for sounding like an absolute idiot, again. "I was wondering, you know, if that offer was still open."

"Of course it is." Jerry said, laughing. "Of course."

"Good! Good--" Utena flushed. "Yeah."

"Where would you like to go?" 

"Wherever. You know. Wherever you go." 

"I go different places." Jerry replied simply, although the sentence itself was effused with all _sorts_ of definitions. Utena shook her head mentally. 

"You pick a place." Utena murmured.

"How about something French or Italian?" Jerry answered softly. "Those are usually the best places to go on a first date." Utena blanched, and could almost _see_ the other person's smile. "If you _consider_ it a date." 

"A date-- a date--" She stammered, and would _not_ acknowledge that Doug was trying NOT to laugh his balls off in the background. 

"Should I come pick you up?" Jerry asked. "I could send someone around."

"Yeah... yeah.... that'd be great." Blue eyes blinked. "I'd like that."

"No problem at all. What time?" Jerry asked, although Utena was sure she already knew what time had been bubbled into her schedule. "Seven thirty?"

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was six-forty-five. Sure, why not?

"Right. Okay. Sure." Utena murmured, voice sort of stuck in her throat.

"See you then." A barely audible smile, and then the click of a phone being hung up. 

"The HELL." She muttered to herself, rubbing her face, wondering if she pinched herself, she would wake up. Probably not. 

"Well, have fun, princess!" Doug spoke up, giving Anthy a hearty slap on the back, and she almost fell over. "Miss Quiet and I will play some trivial pursuit while you go out on your..." he paused to wiggle his eyebrows, "date. Jerry's a wonderful person. I knew her back in middle school--"

"We've heard this before." Utena sighed, slumping down on to a kitchen chair. "_I've_ heard it." 

"Good times." Doug laughed. 

"So."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Um... Yeah."

"If you say so." An enigmatic smile, and then eyes cast back out the window. 

Well, they were getting somewhere, weren't they.

So Jerry had shown up in front of the ramshackle dorm apartments in her black Mercedes Benz (why was that so predictable?) and then had proceeded to come upstairs and knock on their door. Never mind that Utena was still fretting over what she was going to wear for the Good Meal, never mind that Doug had gotten to the door before she had (which was understandable, because she was, once again, only in her bra and a pair of black panties) and had welcomed Jerry quite enthusiastically. Never mind that they had sat down on the couch in the living room, and started talking like old friends (which they were), and never mind that Jerry had smiled That Smile at Anthy a few times as the dark-skinned girl served drinks. Never mind that Anthy had reciprocated with a benign smile of her own. 

Utena fidgeted nervously in the passenger's seat, watching Jerry's manicured hands on the steering wheel, her hands tugging at the hem of her simple black dress. Yes, finally, Utena had decided to go with a Simple Black, boat neck, mid-thigh. Simple Black was just that, easy on the eyes, nothing too extravagant. Once she had stepped out, Jerry stood up, setting the tea cup down, and admired her with all the duty a first date should deserve.

Except it wasn't a date.

__

The inside of your mouth is all black.

Utena blinked, and then shook her head, dismissing the thought.

"We're going to Pierrot's tonight." Jerry said, looking over at Utena, whose head snapped up. "Have you heard of it?"

"No," Utena said, almost embarrassed, suddenly wishing that _she_ was as rich, as High Up There on top of the hierarchy, as Jerry was. But it wasn't her fault. Stupid blue-collar family. 

__

Car crash.

River.

Drowning. 

Prince?

"Ah." Jerry smiled That Smile again, and Utena felt her fingers tighten around her dress hem. Turquoise eyes seemed to speak on their own, and then they looked away again. "What can I say about it... their dishes are excellent. Do you like seafood?"

She hated seafood.

"Yes." 

"They also have pasta... although I have to warn you, the pasta entrees are just there to fill up space on the menu." 

"And their seafood pasta?" Utena managed, trying for humor.

"Unthinkable." Jerry murmured, an enigmatic smile floating about her lips. But it seemed she was amused.

They came to rest in front of a stoplight, and the lawyer sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest. 

"Are you okay?" Utena found herself asking, and then mentally kicked herself. What a stupid question. Of course she was okay. A simple thing such as throwing your head back against the headrest didn't mean you were going to have a heart attack.

"I'm sorry." Jerry turned her head, making eye contact again. "They appointed a new defense attorney for the Northcut trial-- apparently I was their second choice. It was short notice, though. I was at the court all day." 

"Then you shouldn't have called--" Utena started, then broke off. She received a bemused glance from Jerry, who looked away when the light turned green. Utena felt the car lurch slightly as they began to accelerate again. "I mean-- you were tired. You _are _tired. After working all day--"

And once again, she sounded like an idiot.

Jerry seemed not to notice her babble. "I called you during the court lunch recess, but I think you had a class session...?"

"Yeah... Doug and I were in psychology."

"Interesting field." Jerry said, smiling again, the folds of skin around her eyes crinkling slightly. "I used to take that. If you know a person's psyche well enough, you can guess what they're going to say next, you can guess what they're going to do next. Like mind reading."

"It comes in handy?" Utena couldn't help but smile. The person sitting next to her _was_ a lawyer, after all.

"It does." Jerry looked back at her. Utena suppressed a shiver.

They turned a corner and stopped. Utena saw a man standing there in a blue jacket and white pants, his hair slightly pinkish under the light of the street lamp, waiting to cross the road. His fingers were slightly intertwined with another person's, shorter than he, green eyes cast down, dark-skinned, light-haired, wearing a maroon windbreaker. They crossed the road in silence, not bothering the look up, seemingly absorbed with each other, or other matters. 

"Do you know them?" Jerry asked, noticing Utena's scrutiny as she looked out the window as well. 

"No." Utena cast her glance back to the steering wheel, to Jerry's hands. 

"Forgive me for saying so--" Jerry laughed softly. "The dark-skinned man resembles your roommate, doesn't he?"

"Doug?"

"No... Anthy, I think her name was?"

Utena stared back at the retreating forms of the two men, watched them disappear into the shadows. She couldn't tell. But perhaps, yes. Maybe the guy did look like Anthy. Himemiya.

__

Himemiya?

__

Princess-- 

Utena nodded, blankly. "Yeah. Looks like her." 

And then she was silent.


	5. solitaire

****

Rhapsody Theorem [ chapter 5 ]

__

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

__

Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surreal-ness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. Rated NC-17.

__

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively (and frustratingly) blacks out upon? Well... this is one take (and highly unlikely). In progress. 

"Do you think they're having fun?"

__

Chu.

"I think they might be."

__

Chu.

"You don't think so?"

__

Chu.

"How would you know?"

__

Chu.

"You don't."

__

Chu.

"You do."

__

Chu Chu.

"I see."

It wasn't too late, but late enough. Maybe around 11:30 at night. There was nobody in the streets below, and the stairways seemed deserted as well, even though she was sure there _should_ have been some students doing it vertically with the people they had met on the streets that night. It _was_ the weekend, after all. And only half-past eleven, Utena reminded herself. Never mind, the stairs _would_ be deserted, since most people in the building didn't get back until three or four in the morning. She was considered one of the early ones, and it had been her choice to do so.

Why hadn't she taken the elevator? She lived on the top floor.

There was an elevator? No... yes...

She had ordered their seafood pasta. And it wasn't as bad as Jerry had said it would be. But then again, Jerry would know. She lived at the top of the circles, rode on clouds that were too high up for her own human eyes to observe. It was someplace she couldn't get to, not because she wasn't rich or trained or anything like that-- it was just something _different_ about Jerry. 

__

Juri.

She shook her head wearily. 

It had been good, it had been a wonderful dinner. She had enjoyed her bread, her butter, her salad, her appetizers, her soup, her entree, her dessert. She had enjoyed hearing Jerry's smooth voice glide over her like water over river rocks as she talked about things she didn't understand, politics, law, her latest cases-- or was it that she didn't _want_ to understand them? Utena was ignorant like that. It made her feel stupid, at times, but maybe that was the way she was meant to be. 

Void of any knowledge.

And Jerry had talked to her, peering over at her with an appreciative eye that Utena didn't entirely refute, no matter what level her disgust had been at the time that a _woman,_ a _woman,_ for fuck's sake, had probably been undressing her mentally in her eyes and wondering what sort of a bed partner she was. Maybe she had been pale with this realization, maybe she had blushed. But it had been dim in the restaurant, the main light being the two candles at their table, appropriately romantic. 

It wasn't a date, Utena told herself. It wasn't it wasn't it wasn't.

And then something whispered inside her, asked her, _what would you do if it was a man?_

Utena had found herself at a loss for words. 

Then Jerry had asked for the bill, and Utena looked down at her hands in her lap as the waiter came over to present it to them, and Jerry paid in cash, throwing the paper things away like they were nothing, as Utena watched out of the corner of her eye. And Jerry _knew_ she was watching, and perhaps, that was why she did it... as a display of wealth and power, perhaps. She had felt ashamed, ashamed that Jerry had caught her staring, had caught her temptation. 

Temptation meaning that yes, I would like to be with you, even if it is only for your money.

But even if she _was_ worthless and penniless and a struggling student trying to come to terms with the position in life she was going to occupy, it didn't mean that she had to be a gold miner like that whore was, only picking the pockets of those who were rich and not giving a damn about who they really were.

__

Who do you think you are?

They'd exited the restaurant, not hand-in-hand, not even mildly touching each other, even though Utena was sure Jerry would have liked it. But she didn't want to do it, for some reason. Maybe she just felt awkward. But still, she couldn't, even if she didn't care about anything else, not when there was--

"Utena?"

Peering up, the pink-haired girl realized she had already reached the top floor and was standing in front of her own dorm room and probably had been for some time, not bothering to open the door. 

"You're up late." She managed to say, pushing her way past Anthy, and into the kitchen. The television was on, even though it seemed that nobody had been watching it. No, wait-- the mouse was there on the coffee table, curled up in a ball and fast asleep. 

It was an advertisement for jewelry, a thin silver chain with a small bell at the end. 

"Doug called." Anthy said, closing the door as Utena stepped out of her shoes. "He told her that he wouldn't be coming back tonight."

"So he's being responsible now, calling to announce a change in curfew." Utena said, throwing her jacket in the direction of the couch, where it landed on the floor. Unfazed, Anthy walked over and placed it on the coat hanger. 

"How was your evening?"

Utena paused, not wanting around to face her. The question was stated so that it was casual, so that it was just a polite and arbitrary question anybody would ask if you had come home from a night out. And that was it, maybe. 

"She asked about you." She replied, and then walked to the bathroom when she received no answer.

It was true. 

They had gotten back in the car, and Jerry had started the engine, and they had made small talk about movies and the entertainment industry, even though Utena couldn't remember the names of any movies or actors and actresses she saw, just bits and pieces of storylines. Jerry had smiled at her again, now and then, and Utena had to repress the screams that were going to work their way up her throat just from feeling so _insane_ when she was around the lawyer. She couldn't explain the feeling, she just couldn't, and she didn't want to admit anything, confess anything, not when it wasn't true.

It wasn't a bad sort of screaming that she wanted to voice. Maybe.

And then Jerry had dismissed the subject, ending it by saying that Utena was _much_ more refined, somehow, than all those actors and actresses combined. And she had been shocked, because _that,_ of all things to say, was totally out of character. Out of character for Jerry to say, and out of character for Utena because she just _wasn't_ refined. 

And she had voiced this reaction, quietly, subtly, and then Jerry shrugged again, a faint smile tugging the corner of her lips in amusement, and had replied that if Utena didn't think she was anything special, then her roommate certainly was. 

Doug? 

No, the dark-skinned one. 

That was the second time Jerry had mentioned her, and Utena had struggled to not say anything about the subject, her hands tightly clenched in her lap. This was not jealousy. This was not ferocity, or envy, or pride. 

This wasn't going to be about _her._

She didn't know why she was so angry at the time. But she wasn't. Not now. 

Reaching behind her back to undo the zipper, Utena stepped out of her dress and threw it on her unmade bed, throwing off the rest of her clothes as she made her way to the shower, turning the water on with a jerk and not caring if the water was cold, freezing, as it ran through her hair and down her face and over her body and her hands, which now hung limp at her sides. 

Juri--

__

Who?

Juri had been like that too. Untouchable, unreachable, no matter how much Utena had wanted to understand her. Always so distant, shrouded in her own veil of wishes, things she wanted but she couldn't have. Eyes seemingly cold like the water but something else behind it, changing, always different, like water was, trusting a miracle that never came, trusting something, maybe someone, to take her somewhere else. 

__

Who?

Maybe she didn't deserve to escape. 

__

Escape from where?

She didn't know, couldn't remember.

__

Minnows.

What?

Watch them swim, look.

Oh.

Don't they turn quickly?

What?

They change direction in the water very fast.

They can. 

I wish I could do that.

Do what?

Change direction like them. Without hesitation, without looking back.

But you do know that

they're useless outside of water.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she flopped back down on her sorry mistake for a bed, not caring if her dress crumpled beneath her. Her hair was wet and tangled, and it _had_ been an exhausting day, hadn't it? In what way, she couldn't reason. All she did was go out for dinner and then talk, talk, and talk. 

Pages rustled, and Utena blearily opened her eyes, turning her head to the source.

It was Anthy, of course, the only one who _could_ be there. She was sitting up in her bed, covers drawn up to her knees, her hair let down as it always was. Green eyes were cast down, reading a book of some sort, but even from her position, Utena couldn't make out the title. It must be one of Doug's obscure books, Utena thought, shutting her eyes again, etching the scene into her head, and then opening them to look once more. One of Doug's books, those strange ones, about the way the mind works and the way the heart beats and the way the clock turns, things like that. 

She wondered if that mouse was still outside, watching television in it's sleep.

And Anthy just looked so serene, so calm like that, eyes wide and interested as they read the letters of the words of the book on the page, comprehending it, and Utena wondered why she couldn't do that-- be absorbed in something as lifeless as a book, why she couldn't absorb it the way others could, the way Anthy was right now. Maybe, if she was somebody else, she could--

But Anthy was just herself. 

Just herself.

The lamp on the nightstand gave the room a soft yellow glow, warm in feeling, like the candles at dinner. And it was comfortable, Utena thought, to just let her eyes laze on Anthy's dark hands, which were holding the book's worn cover, turning the worn pages. She didn't have to struggle to keep her eyes open, to keep her attention focused, like she had to do with Jerry. She didn't have to be alert for things unwelcome, unexpected-- because there wasn't anything that _wasn't_ unwelcome, _wasn't_ unexpected, in the room at the moment, in this little room in all the places in the world. It was just Anthy reading, reading some story, a fairy tale, maybe, about a Prince and a Princess, something like that.

"You'll catch a cold." Anthy said, drawing Utena out of her reverie. Anthy did not look up, she knew what the dangers of eye contact were. And suddenly Utena felt a tiny stab somewhere around where her heart was, and the blood rushing out of it and it made her dizzy, as if the world were going to topple over and leave her floating in space.

But it didn't, not for this tiny gesture.

"It doesn't matter," she found herself saying, cursing herself for mindlessly staring at Anthy for no reason at all, for thinking thoughts like she had. And she was too tired to argue, too tired to be frustrated, waste her voice hissing something she didn't mean, never meant.

__

You never meant it?

There was no reply-- Anthy didn't say anything as she got off the bed and walked to the direction of the doors. And Utena thought, this is it for tonight then, she's leaving it at that, she's not going to say anything more, not even anything about roses or that ridiculous prince that never existed. 

But no, even as her eyes continued to stare in front of her, looking at the bed sheets and the yellow glow of the room, she heard those footsteps coming back, crossing the floor, and then her bed sank a little as somebody sat on it.

"Let me brush it for you." 

Anthy caught her eye and smiled, timidly, as if she was afraid to do so, always gentle, patient. She looked down at the brush, and said in that quiet way of hers, "then you can go dry it. You have class tomorrow, you know."

Utena turned her head back again and sat up on the bed, not saying anything, because it was pointless to say it, no, I don't want you to brush my hair like I'm a little girl, only seven years old, because _yes,_ she _felt_ like a little girl, scared and young and vulnerable and like maybe this place right now, the bed she was sitting on, Anthy next to her, would disappear in a moment and drop her off somewhere else on some strange, alien place where she wouldn't be able to understand what they were saying and nothing made sense.

It still didn't make sense, giving in.

What benefits were there to surrendering?

She felt the tugs on her scalp, the soothing, rhythmic pulls on her head and the gentle hands that weaved through her hair. Biting her lip as the brush encountered some knots, she heard Anthy's quiet apologies as it did, and knew the tears in her own eyes were caused by a different pain entirely.

__

Do you ever wonder why no one comes out after dark?

It's forbidden, isn't it?

But they break the rules anyway.

Nobody comes out after dark. I don't see anyone.

You go outside by yourself.

I do.

What do you see?

Nothing.

Do you think if many people went outside, there would be something worth seeing?

We'd see each other. 

Is that notable?

"Good morning, Miss Tenjou."

Utena's head popped off the desk with a start. She had been listening. She just looked like she was sleeping. The other people in the class were turned around in their seats, their eyes set on her. Nonexistent gazes, indifferent gazes. 

The professor's eyes held amusement, and he turned his back and walked back to the front of the room.

"Perhaps, Miss Tenjou, you can answer the question I presented to you all yesterday."

__

Question?

She blinked and looked to her right, where Doug was giving her a wide-eyed look, _come on, it's easy._

Oh yeah, that question.

"Do you want it in essay-format?" She said, lazily, not quite awake yet.

"Only if you've written it out like that." Her professor replied.

"Which I haven't." 

"Then proceed to ad-lib." 

Utena rolled her eyes. The professor was a push-over. She could fail the class and still pass-- which was an oxymoron... but did it matter? No, not right now. Answer the question.

"Is it better to be beautiful or is it better to be plain?" She started, as if reciting a poem. "That's a rather _stupid_ question, professor," she looked directly at him while saying this, "because everybody wants to be beautiful." 

"And what other qualities are associated with beauty?" The professor smiled. 

"It depends on what type of person you are. But vanity is a common characteristic, yes--"

__

Touga

"An ego, perhaps,"

__

Saionji

She blanched. Those names, again. But no, don't stop, keep going. 

"But people look up to you, they admire you, they throng around you because you're beautiful,"

__

Touga

"And then you make others feel insignificant, insecure,"

__

Saionji

"Maybe you can lose somebody that way, perhaps friendships can be broken by a fortunate facial arrangement--"

She received a few snickers from this choice of words.

"But even through all that, if you're beautiful inside, then your beauty outside doesn't matter."

__

Did they accept each other, in the end?

In the END? 

What END?

"I was hoping for something a bit more creative, Miss Tenjou." The professor replied after a while, polishing his glasses on the hem of his shirt. "Are you sure you didn't watch a B-grade tear-jerker movie last night so you could recite some 'love conquers all' cliché today?"

"That was mean of him." Utena sniffed after the class ended, walking out the door with Doug. "He didn't have to criticize my statement like that."

"I couldn't care less." Doug grinned. "_Did_ you watch a B-grade movie after your date?"

Utena coughed. "Speaking of which, how was _your_ night?"

"I know you're trying to change the topic, but I'll let that slide for now." 

"Much obliged."

"Well, after I petted Anthy's mouse for a bit, and played dress-up--"

"You played dress-up??" Utena huffed. "Did she cross-dress?"

"She's too feminine." Doug brushed the idea aside with a wave with his hand. "I don't think she would cross-dress.

"And _then_ I told her I'd be going out, and that I wouldn't be back." Doug looked a little ashamed, and Utena pretended not to notice. 

"She said you called." She responded, dropping down on a bench and throwing her books next to her. Doug sat down with a little more grace, setting his books beside him. He crossed his legs and looked thoughtful.

"Well, I did that, too." He said after a while. "You see, I'm _responsible _now."

Utena scoffed. "Anyway."

"So then Syle came to pick me up."

"And then you had rampant sex at his place on his massive bed with vanilla-scented candles on the nightstand and then you did it some more in his bathtub which had lilac petals sprinkled on the water surface and blue food coloring."

Doug pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, we actually didn't. We went ice skating." 

Utena blinked. "It's summer." 

"The _end_ of summer." Doug corrected. "That's why we have _classes_. That's why they have places called _ice rinks,_ typically for people to ice-skate when it's NOT snowing outside and the temperature isn't below zero. Besides, do they serve hot chocolate over frozen ponds? I don't think so."

"My bad." 

"And lilac petals with blue food coloring isn't his style. He would give me red rose petals with red food coloring." Doug mused some more, lost in his train of thought.

"You like red?"

"It's my hair color, isn't it?"

"You like red because it's the color of your hair? Loser."

"I like my hair!" Doug sniffed indignantly, punching Utena lightly on the arm. 

"And you like Syle." Utena found herself saying. "So quit defending yourself and get on with your entertaining biography."

"That's about it." 

Utena shook her head. "So it was a romantic sort of night, then?"

"I guess so. We cuddled, AND," Doug smiled proudly, "he let me go to sleep on time."

"Wonderful." Utena said, deadpan.

"What about you?"

Utena scowled. "I had dinner at an Italian place, went back home, washed my hair."

"That's it? The part where you wash your hair sounds pretty exciting." Doug raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," Utena said, burying her head in her hands, "it was."

__

You're not her.

Her?

The person I usually speak with.

That's right.

Who are you? 

__

Somebody like you.

Similar?

Yes.

You've followed me out here?

No. I came before you.

Who are you?

A shadow.


	6. Dream Sacrament

****

Rhapsody Theorem

[ part 6 ] 

__

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

__

Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surrealness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. Rated NC-17 for the themes mentioned above, language, as well as... implied sex? I guess so.

__

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one take, and highly unlikely. By the way, this has no relation to my previous RGU fanfic, "Ugh... Men." You might be able to catch the deja-vu similar-names of the 'Real World' characters to the 'Ohtori World' characters...

__

Summary: Utena has a dream, then attends a lecture on campus.

****

Radishface

Utena was shivering when she woke up, and she looked to her right, where Anthy was supposed to be nestled in the other bed, covers drawn up to her chin, like they were last night. 

Of course it was empty. But there was nothing to be worried about, because Anthy was outside, making breakfast, like she always was. It was nine in the morning now, a weekend, one of Utena's days where she could just _not worry._

She didn't have anything to be worried about, though. She was just an impoverished college student, trying to get by without too many bad influences. She was just a girl who wanted to lose herself sometimes, because it was too much. She didn't even know what _it_ was. 

She had a dream that there was a man in a strange, colorful world, with beasts of all shapes and sizes around him, laughing at him, or with him, she didn't know. And the man was walking around and around and around doing different things which Utena couldn't remember. Utena remembered he was trying to save something, someone, and the beasts would have human faces sometimes, colorful, gruesome, and sometimes, they would help him, and sometimes, they wouldn't. And then one day he was tied up by the creatures and strung upside down on a wooden beam, and they beat him and kicked him and threw things at him, striking him with canes and poles and swords. 

The man had struggled, had bled, had cried out for help, and there was nobody to help him. The monsters, laughing had laughed and changed colors, glimmering red then green then orange and then rainbows, and they had kept hitting him and beating him until he stopped moving. His eyes were open, wide, blank, and all the blood had disappeared, somehow, whether it had seeped into the ground or the monsters had licked it off, she didn't know. 

The monsters kept striking him, and the man hung there like a rock, unmoving, not responding to the blows that fell on him, even though Utena could see his chest still rising faintly, up and down, up and down. His eyes were glassy, pools of emptiness, and there wasn't something _right_ about it-- even if he were dead or still alive, there was that eerie feeling that he had some sort of inner revelation that he _couldn't_ have had-- 

didn't need to--

he should have died. But he wasn't dead, just unmoving, just letting the blows hit him like he was a dead object, a lifeless thing.

Then they had stopped, had untied him, let him go. The beasts had retreated, and he went rolling down a grassy hill, the sun shining up above, the birds singing, the picture of endless fields and picnics and family outings and things like that, but this man, dead eyes, wide eyes, distorted the picture. And in his head, Utena could sense something tumbling, something turning, like gears in a clock, over and over and over again, a clicking sound as he rolled, like something being jolted out of place,

and then he fell into a lake waiting at the bottom of the hill, the water sparkling, the sun shining down still, and the water reflected the sun and it was too bright to see-- only the rainbows from the water, the clear blue depths, and Utena swore she could see all the way down.

The man had then frozen, had stopped breathing. And slowly, little by little, his body became a mass of individual, tiny diamonds, still clustered together in the shape of the man's body, the colors still intact. 

A fish swam up-- and Utena remembered, that fish had also fallen down the hill with that man, except at the time, it was a lamb, a little black lamb, and Utena remembered, _yes,_ it was the same little black lamb which had followed the man around when he was in the village of beasts, compliantly, except she felt that it 

__

didn't want to 

but was

__

obligated to.

She didn't understand. She didn't understand then why the fish swam up to the man and ate one of the diamonds off the man's body and then had froze, stopped moving, and become a mass of diamonds as well, eyes huge and glassy, lifeless, yet something working, something still thinking inside the head. 

And then it had swam, or floated, to the shore, where there was a girl playing, and this is where Utena came in, because that girl was her. 

She was reading a book by the shore, or building a sandcastle, or gazing out onto the lake, and when she saw the beautiful, glassy, shimmering fish swimming up to her, she had stopped, and smiled. It was pretty, she had thought, it had suddenly escaped her mind that just a few minutes ago, the man had been beaten by the beasts of that village on top of the hill, and it was just that 

__

this is a beautiful thing.

And when Utena touched her, a scaly, slithering, cold feeling went up her hand, and she realized that her body was disintegrating into diamonds too, except it wasn't.

And she had walked with mechanical movements, like her body was just some outer shell she wore, and inside, she frantically tried to control herself, tried to regain her power over her body, but it just kept walking, and walking, and the man was forgotten, and the fish was forgotten, and she had the same glassy-eyed stare they had, and she walked into a school, she thought it was a school, and it seemed to be the same school of beasts, except they all wore smiling human faces, even though they said

__

she's a different one, stay away from her.

And she had woke up.

It meant something. It had to mean something. She couldn't associate anything else with the myriad of images. Her life had been dreary, dull, lifeless before this, no matter how hard she had tried to make herself feel alive by swallowing pills, going to clubs, trying to follow a lifestyle she felt suited her.

__

What was it?

The blank, glassy eyes scared her. She didn't want to look into them, yet she knew that at the end of her dream, she had possessed the same look, the same features.

__

I don't want to be like that.

Utena huddled into herself, closing her arms around her legs to stop herself from shaking. She wasn't crying, her eyes were dry. But she didn't know, couldn't think--

__

I don't want to be like that, to be like that man, to be like the lamb, I don't want to have the same empty mind with everything in my head working but my body not responding, I felt like I couldn't do anything, I could only see where I was going, where I didn't want to go, but I kept going anyway, and all I wanted to do was break out of that shell, break out and control myself again like I had done before-- 

The alarm went off, and Utena gave a start. She stared blankly at the alarm clock before reaching over to turn it off, to stop the incessant high-pitched beeping. 

Minutes later, Anthy came in, wiping her hands on the apron she was wearing, and jumped a little when she saw Utena on the bed. "I'm sorry--"

Utena felt like laughing. "For what?" 

"I don't know. I thought you would be washing up, so I came in to make your bed."

Utena felt her mouth twitch, and then burst out into full laughter. "You don't need to," she said, surprisingly sincere. "I've never done it myself."

Anthy blinked in surprise. Utena had never spoken this cordially to her, much less laughed in her direction without being terribly derogatory. "But Utena--"

"Stop it." Utena said, still smiling. "I don't want you to feel obligated to."

"Obligated?" Anthy blinked, and Utena heard a chittering sound, and an white, furry ear poked out of Anthy's hair. There was that rat again. 

"Like that lamb in my dream." Utena stood up, and stretched, letting out a yawn. "Just following me around--"

"What?" 

"Never mind." 

Doug was waiting for her at the bottom of her apartment stairs, arm linked with Syle's. He waved as he saw he approaching, and Syle acknowledged her with a nod. 

"I guess this means that she's permanently my roommate?" Utena glared.

"Why not?" Doug looked at her curiously. "You're getting along well enough." 

"No, we're not." Utena huffed, and started walking. Doug and Syle trotted behind her like a couple of poodles. 

"I don't know." Doug said from behind her. "I mean, I've been contemplating the whole moving-in-situation for quite a while now." 

"Will you be able to study?" Utena remarked sarcastically, turning to face him with a wry smile on her face, walking backwards. 

Syle politely looked away and Doug mock-glared at the pink-haired youth. 

"A healthy environment is essential for studying." Doug nodded. "You're a slob, so that Anthy can pick up after you. Syle here is a slob as well, so I can clean up after him."

"Then why don't we just switch off?" She clutched at his arm and made puppy-eyes. "I'll miss you, and you see Syle every night _anyway._"

"Dear, I get _tired_ at night. It won't be 'let's have a welcome party,' it'll be 'let your poor roommate go to sleep after the exhausting before-sleep activities he's done.'"

Syle coughed.

Utena let go of Doug's arm, and fell into step beside them. She made a note not to step on the sidewalk cracks, although she wasn't sure why. Hopping over one and timing her steps so she wouldn't step on the next one, Utena looked back up at the two men who were accompanying her. "Remind me why we're going to the campus when it's a weekend?"

"Because." Doug assumed a lecturing pose stance. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get to listen to a world-renown professor lecture about the whole time-space phenomenon who actually knows what he's talking about."

"He's just a crazy hippie," Utena heard Syle murmur, and Doug punched him lightly in the arm.

"No, but seriously." She said, stopping at the intersection. The cars were zooming past her at an astonishing speed, and she felt a little nervous. "He's world-renown? Why's he coming to _this_ slum?"

"I'm kidding." Doug looked at her disapprovingly. "Don't you remember? He's the psycho who lives up there in the same penthouse as Jerry. In other words, _not_ world-renown, just local." 

"What makes him a psycho?"

"Nothing, really." Doug ran a hand through his hair, and they crossed the street, the cars passing along them, parallel, and Utena thought she saw a dark-skinned man smile at her from the red convertible that suddenly went by. "He just popped up here one day and started taking notes."

"Right." Utena looked at Syle, who was looking at Doug with a certain amount of amusement in his eyes. 

"He's stopped 'observing' us, but it doesn't matter. I don't even think he was in the first place."

"Who is he?"

"He doesn't talk to anybody. He's just sort of the mysterious rich guy."

"I see." Utena nodded, still confused. "He's a professor?"

"Sort of. I think he came from another school before he came here and retired."

"He's really that great?" Utena shook her head. "He just sounds like a mediocre person to me. You're just going to listen to his lecture because he's the mysterious rich guy."

"A nice sort to get your hands on." Doug winked, and blew a kiss in Syle's direction. The green-haired punk didn't react, but something softened behind his eyes. "And besides, he's not all that bad-looking either."

"Really?"

"You wouldn't expect a professor of physics to be around his twenties." Doug grinned. "And in great shape."

"So now he's the _beautiful_ mysterious rich guy."

"Basically. Ah, Nemuro Mikage, if I could only get my hands on thee-- ow!" Doug winced from the blow Syle struck to his head. "The hair!" 

__

Nemuro Mikage? 

Utena tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

__

How are you here?

That same question to you as well.

I don't know-- it just happened. 

That is how I felt it. But I discovered the rest.

There's more?

Haven't you ever wondered about your life before?

I try not to.

It's important, you should know.

You can't tell me these things.

I will eventually.

Nemuro Mikage _had_ been as good-looking as Doug had described him, and even the semi-possessive Syle (one could never tell if he was or not, with his silence and all) had a gleam of appreciation in his eye. The man's hair was a washed-out color, as if he had been a former punk himself and had dyed it one-too-many-times, and he wore a navy blue dress shirt and white pants. His eyes were red, which gave Utena a start, and she realized that his hair wasn't washed-out-looking because he had been a former punk-- he was albino, or something like that. 

But his skin didn't look pasty at all.

His voice was very pleasant to listen to-- soft and husky, a bit of a nasally sound, but it wasn't _bad_, no, it just added to his composure. He spoke with a tone that was knowing yet not conceited, and as he lectured about quantum physics and time and space and the string theory, it was as if he knew it all, as if he had traveled to the ends of the universe and had seen everything and he knew everything there was to know. 

Like he had traveled to the ends of this world. 

Utena shook her head, and scowled. She was forgetting something again, but she didn't want to remember it. 

And then that professor had seemed to look up directly at _her_ when he was lecturing, had made eye contact directly with _her,_ and alarms went off in her head, that he knew something, he knew more than Anthy did about why and how she forgot herself and who she was and why she was here in the first place.

But that was stupid, impossible. She had lived here her whole life. At least that's what Doug said.

__

But Doug didn't really say that, something whispered. _He just told you about what happened before. Not for your whole life._

Utena clutched at her hands, and tried to still her heart, which was beating erratically.

__

But Touga didn't really say that, it whispered again. _He just interpreted it differently._

No, it doesn't matter. It doesn't. She took a breath, and the red haze went away, and she sat up a little straighter.

Doug tapped her shoulder, and Utena looked up, to realize that the lecture was over, that the students were all filing out the doors. Her psychology professor, surprisingly, was talking with Nemuro Mikage. 

"He wants to see you." Doug motioned down to the waiting teachers. "I mean, Mikage does."

Syle cast her an indifferent glance, and Doug pursed his lips, punching her arm lightly. "Although I really have no idea why."

Utena got up and patted his shoulder and gave him a smirk. "I'm sure he's straight. Too bad for you."

"And you're his type of woman?" Doug raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're already Jerry's."

Utena fought back a blush. "I'm not."

"You are."

"Not."

"Are too."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and ended the squabble. Doug only laughed, and then led Syle out by the arm. 

"I still don't know why he wants you down there and not me." He called back, and Utena chuckled as she heard an 'owowowow' coming from his direction. Looking back, Syle had pinched his ear in one hand and was dragging him out the door. 

"We'll give you fifteen minutes, dear ~" Her ex-roommate called, and Utena struggled not to think what _that_ implied.

She looked down, at her professor, and then at Nemuro Mikage. He looked up at her and smiled, those blood-red eyes reflecting something that whispered knowledge, wisdom, _yes, I know._

Doug didn't know why she was wanted down there. 

She had a feeling she did.

Sorry for taking so long with this chapter! ^^;; And yes, I'm back in the groove, so the next chapter won't take me so long to finish. What does Nemuro Mikage have to say to Utena?? Ooh, scintillating. 


	7. Canto Paradox

****

Rhapsody Theorem

__

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

__

Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surrealness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. Rated NC-17 for the themes mentioned above, language, as well as... implied sex? I guess so.

__

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one take, and highly unlikely. By the way, this has no relation to my previous RGU fanfic, "Ugh... Men." You might be able to catch the deja-vu similar-names of the 'Real World' characters to the 'Ohtori World' characters...

__

Summary: Utena attends the Nemuro Mikage lecture with some interesting consequences. 

****

Radishface

__

Who are you?

__

A shadow.

"Utena," her professor said, "I'd like you to meet Nemuro Mikage."

The light-haired man turned to her and gave her a smile. "Pleased to meet you." 

"Pleased to meet you." Utena automatically replied, and shook hands with him. Somehow his hands were cold and hard, like marble. Shaking off the thought, she turned to her professor and gave him a sarcastic smile and a raised eyebrow. "Am I in trouble again?" 

"You're a full grown woman an capable of taking care of yourself." Her professor nodded, and turned to Mikage. "I'll leave you to her," he said, and left. Utena stared after his retreating form, before she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

"Can you come with me?" The soft voice, slightly nasally, pleasant, low, and mellow, beckoned to her. Utena tried not to ask questions. Something was going on, something was strange. He led her to the door, and she followed obediently, like a little black lamb following the herder. She watched him take his left hand out of his pocket, she noticed the ring on his fourth finger.

Utena grinned to herself. The man was so young, and already married! But what a strange ring... 

It was like blackened silver, and on top of the ring was an inset design of some sort, pinkish, a rose. 

__

Rose

Honor

Pride

Nobility

The images, the words associated with them, flashed through her head, and then they were gone, like seagulls on the beach, scared by sudden movement, how they flew away, yet the tide kept coming in, the water kept approaching closer to her motionless form, and that fish, that fish made of the diamonds and the clock ticking in its head... 

A dark-skinned man stood by the exit, with bright green eyes and light wavy hair, wearing a maroon shirt and black pants. He nodded his greeting to Mikage, and then to her. Uncertainly, she nodded back. 

"This is Mamiya," Mikage introduced, and they shook hands. Utena flinched at the touch-- it was like cold electricity, hard diamonds, and icy water, like her dream, like her vision. 

She smiled uncertainly, her heart was beating erratically, she didn't know why. They were just people, after all. 

Like her. 

They led her out the door, to the black Mercedes that was waiting for them, and Utena climbed in, only knowing that she was being helped into the car by Mikage, only knowing that as she did, she looked into Mamiya's green eyes and thought of Anthy, and how, in some obscure way, Mikage reminded Utena of herself. 

They were in the car, she was sitting in the back, in the leather, upholstered seats. She recalled that in her dream, her eyes had glazed over, her mind was still working but she couldn't move or speak if she wanted to. She felt trapped now, and wondered why she had let Mikage lead her, let Mikage tell her something, communicate something into her head, without her knowing it. 

"You're Utena." Mikage said from the driver's seat, Mamiya beside him. "I remember you." 

__

You remember me? Utena thought, suddenly paralyzed. _From where? I've never seen you before. _She looked out the window, and the sky turned an unbecoming shade of grey, as clouds suddenly appeared. So the weather man was right, it was going to rain. 

It was as if Mikage could hear her. "The same thing happened to me when I was there, too."

__

What same thing? And where were you?

"I was there a few years back, before you ever arrived there. I was the first, the last in the experiment. After my departure, they continued on, but in a different way. So the original method was lost." 

__

Eternity is not what it is?

No!

No! 

NO! 

"It wouldn't be fair if the ideal you fought for didn't exist at all." Mikage said. "The world is fair enough."

"The world is fair?" Utena heard herself voice, her throat feeling like it would burn, it would crack. "The world isn't fair."

"You only think this life isn't fair because you aren't enjoying it." Mikage said, turning right at an intersection. "Well, think of it this way. For every something that you enjoy, Fate and Fortune have to experience the opposite-- they have to feel the opposite of what you are feeling. Eventually happiness and sadness will balance themselves out. After all, Fate and Fortune have to feel pleasure, too."

"But there's no Fate, there's no Fortune." Utena bit her lip, thinking quickly, trying to find an answer to this unexplainable situation. Why was she talking about Fate, why was she talking to Mikage? She hadn't listened to his lecture, she hadn't paid attention. Why had he noticed her? 

"I noticed you because you're like me." He said, turning left at an intersection. "I went through the same thing you did. I crossed Fate, I double-crossed Fortune, and I escaped. It's really that easy." 

Utena ground her teeth, not understanding. "It's not easy. I've tried to shirk them before. It's hard enough to pass my college classes, it's hard enough to get through life. How can I escape what destiny there is? Because there _is_ no destiny, it's all free will!" 

She had no idea what she was saying. The words just poured from her mouth, making her sound like an idiot, a clown, dancing on the streets for pennies. 

"Ah, but that's what constricts you, Utena." Mikage said, turning right at an intersection. "You think there's free will. There's no free will. Everything has been planned, like the duels, do you remember? There was a calendar, and your date with the End of the World had been planned for the longest time already. There's nothing you can do once _it's_ decided. You just have to follow it." 

"So you're telling me everything's already there, that I don't have to do anything?" Utena laughed, a tinge of hysteria in her voice. Just play along with the game. "You're telling me _what?_" 

"What you do _now_ influences what you do in the future." Mikage said simply. "That's all that I mean when I say Fate, Fortune, and Destiny." 

Utena wasn't going to be taken in again. "_I don't fucking give a shit! WHERE ARE WE GOING?_"

"To the answers." Mikage replied.

Mamiya's green eyes widened in the rearview mirror, shock reflected in them, surprise, and hope. "Mikage--" he whispered, suddenly. "Look in front of you." 

They turned a corner, and the car exploded into flames.

"Utena, I'd like you to meet professor Nemuro Mikage." 

The professor smiled at her, his eyes radiant and his manner pleasant. "It's my pleasure."

Utena blinked, shook her head, trying to clear the black spots of light from her vision, and then assumed a smile herself. "No problem." She grinned. "Your lecture was fascinating, even if I didn't understand all of it."

Professor Mikage laughed, and the dark-skinned man standing beside him gave an amused smile. "I am a bit obscure at times, aren't I?" 

"No, but it's interesting." Utena shook her head, trying to clear the fuzz. "I mean, you impress people with all those technological terms." 

He turned around, motioning for Utena to follow him. "Did you listen to the part where I talked about my Mobius Strip theory?" He laughed. "I practically made that up just while I was there." 

"You ad-libbed the whole thing?" Utena's eyes widened in surprise. "That's very impressive, professor."

"I'd like you to meet Mamiya." The light-haired professor took his dark-skinned companion by the arm, and he and Utena shook hands. Mamiya's green eyes were demurely cast down, try as Utena might to make eye contact with him. "He's really helped me in my research."

"I'm glad to meet you." She said, a blithe smile on her face, and Mamiya's face flushed with embarrassment. 

"It wasn't anything, really." He said in a soft voice. 

"You mean the world to me." The professor said, and with his finger, traced a line down the side of Mamiya's face. Utena's eyes widened again, this time at this... public display of affection. But it didn't really matter. Touga and Saionji were partners, after all.

Doug and Syle were partners, after all. 

"Yes, he was a bit of a guinea pig." The professor laughed, and Mamiya looked away. "That's why he's one of the greatest contributors." 

"I see." Utena said, not really seeing how a person could be a guinea pig in an experiment that was purely speculation and theory. She decided to voice her question. "But how would he be a guinea pig?"

"Oh," The professor answered, opening his car door for Utena, and then hopping in the driver's compartment himself. Mamiya demurely sat in the back, hands folded in his lap. "He provides me with ideas. He inspires me, and then I feed my speculations back to him. He offers me his opinions, and I, in return, owe him something." 

The professor was speaking like he had known Utena forever, maybe he had. 

He drove the black Mercedes out of the parking lot, and made a right at the intersection. 

"The Mobius Strip Theory is actually quite simple, in context." The professor went on. "There's not much to say about it. You know what a Mobius Strip is?"

"Yes," Utena replied, "it's like a band, only there's a twist in it." 

"Life is somewhat like a Mobius strip, don't you think?" The professor gave an enigmatic smile. "Well, life for some people. There was a group of people whose lives were exactly like Mobius strips. You see, for some people, for these people, they wanted eternity, and that itself is like a Mobius-- it goes around and around, all sides, inside and out, and it can keep going, but you'll come back to the beginning, anyway." 

Utena nodded. "That's the interesting thing about them. If you draw a line down the middle and continue to go, the line will extend between the inside of the band _and_ the outside of the band."

"But there's really no inside or outside in context, is there?" The professor made a left turn. "It's all just one big strip, one big life." 

"That's the interesting thing." Utena said. She turned to look out the window. 

"And you do know that when you cut a Mobius strip down the center, all the way around, it doesn't form two separate loops."

"No." Utena said, absent-mindedly. "It forms two interlocking loops." 

"The focal point is also always changing." The professor went on, and looked in the rear view mirror and smiled at Mamiya. "I'm not leaving you out, am I?" 

"No." Mamiya replied, soft. "I'm your guinea pig, after all."

Utena laughed, although she wasn't sure why. 

"The focal point of the two interlocking Mobius strips is always changing." The professor continued. "There's always an outside force acting on them, moving them, spinning them, and they're always turning, making revolutions." He pushed his glasses up his nose and made another left turn at an intersection. "The focal point I'm talking about is the part where the two strips are touching." 

"The focal point-- I see. But that's always changing too, isn't it? If the strips are moving..."

"They're not moving in the same direction, once they're split. One can move backwards, one can move forwards. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that our lives are like these loops. They continue, they can go on forever, but they always come back to the same place. However, what is _one_ life on _one_ of the loops is quite different from the life on the _other_ one, but they're essentially the same. They represent the same thing." 

Utena nodded. "I follow you." 

"Have you heard of anti-matter?" The professor continued, and made a right turn at another intersection. "They tried for years to produce anti-matter." 

"Anti-matter...?" Utena asked, hesitantly. 

"For everything that exists in this world, there is the exact same thing existing in the other world." 

"I see."

"Scientists have produced it. They've managed to make electrons and their opposites-- but the anti-electrons disappear after a short time." 

"So there's another me somewhere else." Utena laughed. "That's great. It's like Alice through the looking-glass, all over again."

"It's a speculation, of course." The professor continued. "But do you see how anti-matter and my Mobius Strip Theory are connected?" He looked at Utena, and Utena nodded. There was almost something desperate about the question. 

"Did you know--" The professor pursed his lips. "You know that, if the anti-matter comes into contact with the original matter, then they'll eliminate each other, don't you?" 

"I didn't know that." Utena tilted her head to one side. "But it hasn't happened before, has it?" 

"Well, let's just say that the Mobius strips represent different worlds. The focal point between them can either act as a bridge, a sort of portal, for one being from one loop to pass to the next. But if the being from that one world comes into contact with the mirror-image of the other loop, then they'll disappear. It's like adding positive one to negative one and you end up with zero." 

Utena nodded, and looked out the window again. The clouds had started moving away from the sun, and the first few rays of light shone through. 

"However, the focal point can also represent the person's life-- their life connecting with the life from the other loop. And the instant those two worlds of that person's mind touch, at that specific point, they cancel each other out, they destroy each other. The person is dead, that person is nothing. They don't even exist." 

"That's an interesting prospect, professor." Utena said respectfully. The theory sounded insane, but the professor made it sound believable, almost. He said it with conviction, he said it with desperation. "But has it happened?"

The professor gave her a wry smile. "Do you think one who has disappeared will come back to tell the tale?"

"Professor, if positive one and negative one equals zero, zero equals positive one and negative one." Utena suddenly felt proud of herself. "That's a proven theory. Commutative property of mathematics. The 'deceased' being can come back as two separate forms." 

"Ah, but would they remember?" The professor sighed. "Would they remember any of it at all?" 

Utena felt her head spinning giddily. This conversation was taking a strange turn. "Why wouldn't they?" 

"Because once you go into that _zero,_ that _nothingness,_ what can you forget? What can't you forget?" 

"But there must be somebody who remembers." Utena shrugged, trying to ignore the uneasy, hysterical feeling rising up her throat, coming out of her skin. "There should be somebody who remembers."

"Not many people are as lucky to have gone through the process," the professor's voice dropped. "Not so many people have _gone through it before._" He emphasized each word, looked at Utena with fiery eyes. "Some people will remember. Others don't. I wonder why."

Utena's head was spinning now, the white spots darkened her vision, and she tried to wave them away, tried to get them away. The desperate feeling in her heart clenched and unclenched, and she tried to channel it through her emotions, tried to make it become anger. "If you wonder, professor, do you really--" 

Mamiya's eyes widened in the rearview mirror, green, luminous orbs of light, and Utena felt the words suddenly drop dead in her throat, rats falling dead to the ground from the plague. "Mikage, Mikage, look in _front_ of you."

The professor wrenched his view away from Utena, and tried to stop the car. 

A fire blazed before them, the red and orange and yellow flames licking up the side of a car, a black Mercedes, and the smoke was black as well, grey-tinged, as it rose up into the air, lighter than the sky and heavier than paper, and Utena's own eyes widened as she saw the blood pouring down her own face in the mirror, as the headlights went out, and her mouth opened to release a scream as she recognized one of the passenger's faces in the other car as her own.

How many times could a Mobius strip be cut? 

She didn't have the time to think, to react, and the professor tried to stop, to turn, but it was as if a magnetic force was pulling them to the wreckage of themselves, the wreckage of the mirrors, and Utena lifted her hands up to her face mechanically, to shield herself, and wondered why her hands were suddenly the professor's hands, Mikage's hands, and why she wore a ring on her left hand, on her fourth finger, and why there was a rose on it, cold, hard marble. 

She didn't feel the impact when they crashed, she didn't feel the pain. She saw herself, she saw them all, she saw everybody, and she saw nobody. Her vision whitened and the sound of pounding blood filled her ears. 

"Utena, meet professor Nemuro Mikage." 

The pink-haired girl struggled to clear the white specks from her vision, and nodded coolly to conceal her underlying nervousness, her underlying fright. The professor nodded back at her. 

"I hope to see you again." 

Utena didn't reply, and he walked out the doors, a dark-skinned man following close by. 

She stared after his form, and then ran up the stairs to the other exit, pushing open the doors, struggling not to cry, struggling not to let the tears fall down and start an earthquake, make the buildings fall, and trap her underneath. She didn't know what had happened, why she had seen so many things and seen nothing at all, she didn't care about the lecture, what the professor had said about time and space and non-existence and the soul, she wanted to go back home and die in security, die in the wealth of her emotions. 

Utena scrubbed at her eyes furiously, trying to regain her composure as she gasped for breath, leaning against the wall. She saw a little better now, and ignored the confused glances of the students walking around her.

"Utena, why don't you go meet professor Nemuro Mikage?" 

Blue eyes quivered, her hands shook, as they gripped the armrest. "What?"

Doug gave her a confused look, and Syle cast her an indifferent one. "Just a minute ago you were dying to meet him, you know." He pointed down towards the center of the lecture hall, where the light-haired professor was speaking with her own psychology teacher. "You were telling me about how interesting his theories were." 

"I wasn't listening." 

Syle made a face. "We shouldn't have brought you here, then." He scoffed. "A waste of your morning." 

"Honestly, Utena." Doug smiled half-heartedly. "You can't just blow off your life. I mean, I think you're just overdoing the whole party scene a bit too much. We bring you here to meet the cutest professor in a lifetime-- oof."

Syle had grabbed Doug's chin between his fingers. "Run that by me again."

"I'd rather not." Doug laughed, and Syle released him. "But honestly, Utena. Next time, pay more attention." They started for the exit, and Utena rose from her seat, unsteadily, shaking like it was winter, it was cold, when it wasn't. She looked down towards the stage, where professor Mikage had given his lecture, where he had talked about time and space and wormholes and how there were portals from this world to the next one. 

He wasn't there anymore, just her psychology teacher. Her psychology teacher was rummaging around the desk behind him, bringing out papers, stacks of papers, putting them on the desk. Utena looked towards the other exit, down by the stage. The door was swinging-- professor Mikage had just left, then. 

Utena felt the urge to go, to run after him, to ask him, wring the answers that she needed out of him. He seemed to know everything. They said the man on the moon knew all there was to know, they said that gods knew everything there was to know. They say that if you lived forever, you could know all there was to know. Clenching her fists so hard her nails drew blood, Utena stared at the exit until the doors stopped swinging, until she was completely sure that whatever car that _damned professor _had came in was gone, had driven far, far away. 

Turning around, she half-ran to the exit, not caring if she received the confused looks of the other students around her, not caring if she ignored Doug's concerned questions, Syle's indifference. She had to get home, back to the apartment, the dormitory, where a certain dark-skinned girl would be waiting for her, the place cleaned, smelling fresh and pure and white, unlike the oily colors she had seen and was trying to forget, the oily colors and the pictures of so many things that didn't make sense and _wouldn't_ make sense-- 

She wanted to go back and see Himemiya, even though it was Himemiya who had started it all in the first place. 


	8. Oasis Accident

****

Rhapsody Theorem

__

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

__

Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surrealness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. 

__

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one take, and highly unlikely. There is a parallel universe, separated by dark matter, interconnected by a portal called the focal point of a Mobius Strip…

__

Summary: Utena realizes something about Himemiya. 

****

Radishface

__

The point in life is to discover what it means.

It's to be happy.

Discovery is happiness.

Discovery brings you eternal suffering when you discover it's not all it's meant to be.

You would live in oblivion?

Yes. 

__

Oblivion is... it isn't. You discover, and you live with the discovery. Once you realize you can live with it without feeling pain, isn't that happiness?

It's not eternal.

Nothing is.

So why discover?

She could see colors, swirling in vain in front of her eyes, as she finally reached the last step of the apartment complex, her chest heaving, the shirt soaked from sweat. The salty stuff poured in rivets down her face, obscuring her vision, and the sight of the door never seemed so welcome, so forbidding. 

Utena had run all the way from the campus, her lungs were twisting painfully in her chest, her heart an unsteady murmur of whispers, of the times when she was talking to herself but she wasn't, the voices in her head screamed to her, their words an unintelligible blur of commands and demands and pleas and cries of help. 

"Himemiya." She gasped, as she opened the door, her eyes cast on the floor as her shoes seemed to fall off her feet by themselves, walking their own way to the shoe rack, and her body tumbled onto the couch, in front of the television. Utena felt numb all over, her fingers tingled with unreleased blood. Her face was pressed into the throw cushion, and she felt her nose twitch, and she sneezed. 

Sitting up, Utena rubbed her eyes, bleary eyes, and stared at the pillow. It was filthy, lint clinging at the corners, a fine layer of dust greying the burgundy of the cushion. She stared at it, confused and angry, for some reason. Himemiya had seemed to have cleaned everything up in the dormitory. She had missed this one ragged, dusty piece of furniture. 

Utena looked up, her eyes clouded with tears from the dust and the dirt and her own frustration, and blinked, and the pearly drops of liquid slid down her cheeks as they were let loose. 

Dishes were piled up in the sink, unwashed, dirty dishes, leftover food clinging onto the edges of the plates, green and grey and black mold growing over the sides of the sink, the counters coated in grime and dirt, the cups overturned on the kitchen counter and the sink dripping stagnant water, a steady and unsteady flow of mead liquid, filtered through teeth. 

Utena stood up shakily, and looked around the apartment. The coffee table in front of the television was overloaded with cups and mugs and bowls of junk food and candy wrappers and everything else, sticky soda coating the varnished top with a sickening odor, the television had suddenly turned on, grimy pictures moving in slow motion behind the fine layer of dust and oil layering on top of the screen. A person was talking on screen, their lips pulled back into the semblance of a smile, showing teeth, and seemed to be talking to her, but the mouth was moving too slowly. 

She turned to the screen and stared at it, mesmerized and trembling, and reached out to it, to the television. Her fingers made a path through the dust, through the oil, and they were coated with a sticky and dry substance, resembled blood, tasted like iron. 

The girl on the television was dark-skinned, had purple hair. Utena felt a scream rising in her throat, wouldn't let it give voice. 

"Himemiya?" She whispered, hoarse, hands frantically tearing at the electronic dots of light, of color. She wiped off the dust frantically with her hands, trying to see more of the picture. 

Bright green eyes, long, luxurious hair, lips smiling but countenance frightened, timid, a white rat on her shoulder, and Utena's hands shook as she looked at it, at the television screen. 

And the quivering green eyes were hiding behind a pair of glasses, the hair tied up into a tight bun, a school uniform of teal and white appeared on her, the white rat on her shoulder suddenly floated away. 

"Himemiya." Utena heard another voice call from the television screen, and drew closer, shaking, trying to find the source of the voice. "Himemiya, I'm home." 

The dark-skinned girl turned around, a watering can in her hands, she was watering roses, white roses. White roses that had just bloomed a minute ago when she had been watering them. She smiled, only with her lips, and a little with her eyes. 

The camera angle seemed to turn, and Utena saw a girl in a black school uniform, with a grinning countenance, an easy smile, blue eyes, glittering with enthusiasm for innocence and life and naivety. She didn't know anybody like that. She didn't. She _couldn't._

And the dark-skinned girl said, "Welcome back," 

"Utena?" 

She turned around abruptly, eyes wild, her breath coming in short spurts. Her hands were on the television screen, which was turned off. The coffee table sparkled, the kitchen counter glimmered. The sink was empty, and the cushion on the couch wasn't there. 

"Himemiya." She said, stupidly, not believing it, feeling tears coming to her eyes again, and she willed herself to stay strong, for a moment. Cry later. Cry when she didn't need the answers. 

The green-eyed girl was standing in the doorway, looking at her with concern, her hair spilling over her shoulders, the white rat nestled there chittering away. She held a vase of red roses in both hands, red because she had just bought them. 

"I was out." The girl said, noticing Utena's gaze, and stared at her hands, at the flowers, at the vase. "I thought that a few flowers would be nice." She smiled, hesitantly, an intent to reassure. 

The vase was white, designs sketched into the sides in black. Buildings were etched into the white porcelain, a tall tower arching above the rest, a clock embedded in its front. Utena stared at it, not understanding, uncomprehending. 

"Himemiya..." Utena started, her eyes glassy, her gaze somewhere else. "Where's the cushion?" 

"Oh, the one on the couch?" The dark-skinned girl laughed, embarrassed. "It was a bit out of shape. I threw it away. I'll go buy a new one, if you really want one. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten rid of it." 

"No, no, that's fine." Utena said, dazedly, and turned around, started for her bedroom. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" She followed, placing the vase of roses on the coffee table. "You're back early from the lecture. I thought you'd be going out to lunch too, with Doug and Syle. If I had known you'd be coming back for lunch, I would have made something." 

"What about you?" Utena asked, suddenly turning around to face her new roommate. "What would you have eaten?" 

She blinked, large, innocent, quivering green eyes. "I don't know. I don't think I would have had anything." 

Utena shrugged, unhappy, for some reason. Tired, and frustrated, and desperate for something she didn't know the name for. "Anthy." She said, her voice a monotone, as if it wasn't her speaking, but somebody else, for somebody else. 

The green eyes widened with shock, surprise, and glimmered with a half-hidden joy, a half-hidden delight. Utena failed to notice, and she couldn't have noticed anyway. Not when they weren't facing each other. 

"Yes?" The quiet voice was a little less musically controlled, a little less light, heavy, breath coming unevenly. 

"Anthy," She asked, pressing her hand to her eyes, to stop the tears from coming down. They came down anyway, in streaming rivets, and Utena's voice broke, could sound no more than a whisper. 

"Where are your glasses?" 

"What?" 

"Didn't you have glasses?" She murmured, in a dream, in a nightmare. "I remember, somewhere, sometime ago, you had glasses. You used to wear them. You never took them off because you were afraid you'd misplace them. Except you never did. You never misplaced anything. You always knew where everything was." She choked on her words, and fell back on her bed, arms sprawled, eyes on the ceiling, the cracks for water, the cracks for the earthquakes. "You wore glasses. I _know._" 

Anthy stared back, and lifted a hand up to her temples, feeling for them, not finding them there. Utena watched out of the corner of her eye, watched Anthy shake her head, watched Anthy press her knuckles to her lips, as if to stifle the words that threatened to tumble out of her mouth. 

"No." She said, and Utena didn't know what it was an answer to. 

She smiled brokenly, raising her arm over her eyes, so that it was all dark. "Oh." She said, trying to laugh. "Never mind, then. "

Ah… strangeness. ¬_¬ Trust me, though. It's going somewhere. Somewhere. In the dark, maybe. But at least it's getting there. 


	9. Saturday Judgement

****

Rhapsody Theorem

__

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

__

Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surrealness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. 

__

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one take, and highly unlikely. There is a parallel universe, separated by dark matter, interconnected by a portal called the focal point of a Mobius strip… sure. _

__

Summary: Utena attends a birthday party, and meets with an old friend. Friend. Yeah. 

****

Radishface

__

Why don't you wake up?

From what? 

Your dreams.

Don't want to. I like them.

You don't want reality?

Reality... reality isn't real, either. You wake up to reality. And then you go back to dreams again. It's a cycle, one after the other. So it doesn't make a difference which one you start with first, or which one you end up with.

But your dreams are turning into nightmares.

Who said they were good dreams in the first place?

And you enjoy torturing yourself?

I can't tell you the truth. I wouldn't be able to.

The chick has to break out of the egg sooner or later, you know.

And what if it dies in its shell?

"Should I be scared?" He said, laughing. A blindfold covered his eyes, and Utena took his hand. 

"No. It's just your birthday." 

"That's what I'm scared of. Getting old." He laughed again, and she shrugged, rolling her eyes. 

"You'll never grow. You're eternally young." 

"Say that to Doug. He'll be more flattered than I am." 

It was her turn to smile, as she led him by the hand, down the corridor. Doug was the one who planned the party. Doug was the one who wanted the party in the first place, because he couldn't live without the feeling of... celebration. Or something. Utena didn't really know, but she was glad to participate in the festivities-- it would take her mind off other things. 

Of course Himemiya would be there too. Anthy. Whatever you wanted to call her. She would be there, she would be baking the cake, or serving the cake, or making food, or cleaning up, staying in the corners. They would pretend they were just roommates. And they were. 

"Do you miss him?" Michael said, pausing in his steps for a minute, and Utena raised her eyebrow at the blindfolded man. 

"Miss who? Doug?" She scoffed, trying to infuse some annoyance into her voice. "Him and all his dates? No, I don't. At least with the new girl she keeps house for me while I'm at class, you know? And she cooks. It's good food-- better than Doug's instant stuff." She went on. "Doug could cook decent stuff, but he was too busy most of the time, and I was always out, so whatever dishes there _were_ were always left in the sink, and it was a rat house most of the time. Yeah." She paused, realizing she was rambling. "A rat house." 

"Well." Michael said, and although his mouth wasn't smiling, Utena was sure she could see the crinkles, the folds at the corners of his eyes, the glimmer in them behind the blindfold. "She seems to take good care of you." He winked. 

"What makes you say that?" Utena tried to keep her voice steady, and started walking down the corridor again, leading him by the hand. "She's just meant to be a housewife. And she has nothing better to do all day than to clean house. You should see it now," she forced a laugh, forced it to be light, "it's CLEAN. It's not a horrible mess anymore. And she threw away the pillow."

"Oh, the one on the couch?"

"Yeah." 

"It smelled like Doug, I remember." 

Utena muttered something under her breath. "Hn." 

"Are we there yet?" He sounded like an impatient kid, and suddenly, Utena seemed to feel thin air instead of his hand, electricity as it ran up through her arms. She looked down to their interlocked fingers, and for a minute, she didn't see anything, and then she saw something, a ring, a white ring with a pink center, on his fourth finger. And then it disappeared. 

"Yeah." Utena shook her head, tried to clear it away, whatever it was. "Yeah, we're here." 

Syle's apartment door was in front of her, the apartment number glaring at her as it rested on a plaque on the door, and somehow, she was reluctant to go in. What was behind that door? People, she told herself. People who know you. They might not respect you, but at least they know you. And you know them, you've know them for a long time.

__

For a long time. She said to herself. _A long time._

So just go in. You won't find any coffins up against the walls. 

"Happy Birthday, Michael." She said, almost conspiratorially, and he gave a long-winded sigh. 

"Miki just sounds _so_ much cuter." He pouted, blindfold still around his eyes. "Please?" And then Utena saw a huge, alien pair of blue eyes, a slim figure, much like the one she was looking at now, but thinner, and less confident, somehow, more fragile, more frail. A stopwatch hung around his neck, and Utena wondered if the man was a track coach. Or if she was just fucking crazy. 

Utena's breath caught in her throat, and she struggled to swallow around it. "You said you liked the nickname _Mike_." 

"Then why don't you call me that?" He asked, genuinely confused. "I've cut and styled your hair for _years._" 

"Didn't you just say you wanted to be called _Miki?_" She said. The panic was rising in her stomach, and she quashed it down. She needed to clean out her ears. Stopping her club habit wasn't enough. Not doing recreational drugs wasn't enough. She needed to clean out her ears because she was getting all the names wrong. Doug sounded like Touga, and Syle sounded like Saionji, and she had a sinking feeling that she knew all those names from before. 

"What?" Michael said back. 

"Nothing." Utena said quickly, dismissing it, trying to smile like normal. "Mike."

"Yeah?" 

"How long have I been here?" She said it. There. And her voice was trembling, and it was ridiculous. Her voice was shaking, and it was absurd. She was stupid, and she was afraid. 

"Oh, Utena." Michael laughed, shook his perfectly styled hair out of his blindfolded eyes. "You silly girl. You've been here for as long as I can remember. _Forever._" 

Michael had left her to sit on the couch, the excruciatingly comfy couch, and had run off to madly give Syle some air kisses. So it wasn't a bad couch or anything, it was actually very... very... avant-garde. Syle, the punk, the member of the Anarchist Revolution band, was actually very rich and very spoiled, even though he didn't look it. His apartment oozed contemporary, Scandinavian furniture, paintings of random blotches of paint splattered on canvas adorned his walls (painted by himself, Syle had said morosely, when Utena asked), his couches were curved in strange ways that made them uncomfortable if one wished to sit and perhaps interesting to have sex on. The lights were dim, although through his ceiling-to-floor windows, the last remnants of tangible sunlight flew in, splashing his living room a pale orange. 

The place was fucking gorgeous. No wonder Doug had wanted to leave. No wonder Michael had consented to having the 'surprise' birthday party here.

It was only Michael. It was only _Michael,_ the resident hairdresser, but Syle decided to host the party at his house. A few cheesy decorations were hung up, including an arbitrary, rainbow-colored banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY in obnoxious, bold letters, but other than that, it was relatively quiet, since there weren't all that many people. It could have been quieter, though, if the music hadn't been turned up to the maximum and the Anarchist's new CD was playing. She watched the speakers tremble as the drum solo blasted forth, and laughed when the student standing by the speaker jumped in surprise and almost dropped her soda can. 

There were no recreational drugs in sight. But Michael was such a sweetie. They couldn't spoil his cheery demeanor by acting like a bunch of stoned hippies. 

"Oh darrrrlinnng!" Somebody trilled from across the room. Utena looked up from her spot on Syle's ottoman and smiled at her ex-roommate, who was blithely making his way over across the crowded living room. 

"Doug." She acknowledged curtly. Let him see that she was mad at him for leaving. Let him see that she was not satisfied with rooming with a fucking loon who liked to clean house. 

"You sound like you're not happy with a perfectly _nice_ girl who likes to keep house for you." Doug pouted, and Utena rolled her eyes, sipping her soda. "I think it's cute." 

"I _don't._" She scowled. "She talks to me about _shit_ I don't know about and I can't understand her." 

"So she's a bit...?" Doug made a gesture with his finger around his head and Utena laughed. "Well, she looks harmless enough. And she seemed like she knew you. And don't forget," Doug waggled his finger at her. "_you_ were the one who brought her home." 

"So what if I did?" Utena sniffed. "It wasn't a one-night-stand or anything. Not like you." 

Doug looked mildly offended for a minute. "I'm not like that now. I found my dearest and I'm not going to let him go." 

"Not considering that you've actually been wanting to get into his pants since--"

"Forever."

Utena's face contorted with something unexplainable, but Doug didn't seem to notice. "Anyway." He continued, swirling his martini glass around, the olive making its hypnotic way around the bottom of the glass. "That doesn't matter. She seems harmless." 

"What if she's one of those crazy asylum people?" Utena fretted, humorously angry, if that could be a possible combination. "What if she tries to kill me in my sleep? Or what if she kills me in _her_ sleep, like she sleepwalks or something?" 

"If she sleepwalks, honey," Doug laughed, pretending to be ignorant, "she'll be _walking._" 

"With a knife." Utena muttered sullenly, but couldn't help laugh a bit. It was good to be talking to Doug again, to be talking about stupid things. With Himemiya, it was different, of course it was. You couldn't just thrown Utena into a strange situation and let her deal with it. With Himemiya, it wasn't like it was with Doug, easy, airy, breezy. There was something intense about her, something focused, and she, Utena, seemed to be that radiating, pulsing point of light that she was concentrating on. Not that it wasn't already strange enough that this supposed one-night-stand (and a girl, no less) was now living with her. 

It gave her the shivers to think about it. 

It was like Doug was going to say any minute now, _oh, by the way, she _is_ an escaped convict and she's going to kill you because she thinks you look like her long lost lover who betrayed her so and so many years ago. But it's okay, Utena, because you're not her long lost lover or anything. _

That was correct. 

"Dear?" Doug said. "What's wrong?" 

Utena looked up, and then out the window, as the sun finally went down. "Nothing." She said, trying to reassure. Doug squinted at her, his red hair in his face, his glasses slipping off his nose. "Is Anth-- Is _she _here?" 

Doug smiled like he knew something, and Utena felt the urge to wipe the smirk off his face. "She's serving drinks, hon'. You wanna go talk to her? It's not like you don't know her." 

"No." Utena spat, wrenched her gaze from the punch bowl back to the scenery outside, the landscape. Skyscrapers were visible in the darkening twilight, and she saw the campus, the lights flickering on in the different buildings as the evening classes started. And it looked ominous, the way the shadows were cast, the way the clock tower seemed to lean towards the ground to entice people, the hands on its face crawling like ants as they inched nearer to midnight. 

__

There is no clock tower, her brain reminded her. _What are you talking about?_

And Utena looked up again, looked up at Anthy, saw her smile back, eyes lighting up with recognition and happiness, yet repressed, disciplined. Nobody was at the punch bowl now, and she had her hands clasped in front of her, fingers interlocking with one another, and Utena imagined one of the hands to be hers.

And then they were being pulled apart, _they _were being pulled apart, and their hands were struggling to hold on, but then it was only their fingers touching, and then nothing at all, as Anthy screamed when she fell and Utena followed the plummeting form with her eyes until she could no longer see her and the planks of wood from the coffin were flying up into her face, smashing her nose and tearing out her eyes, and the stone castle from above was crumbling and the foundations were dropping onto her back, and the swords came at her with an intent only to strike where her heart was, to kill her where her ambition had been rooted in, to squash any hope of revival, of rebirth, of hope. 

__

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I couldn't be your prince. Do you hear that? It's my apology. I can't say it enough. I can't say that I am sorry because I'm not, and yet I am. I wish I could take it all back. I wish you never had to know me. I wish that I had loved you sooner, but I had loved you all along. 

She looked away again, suddenly strangely calm and yet her mind and thoughts were a mess, running into one another, stumbling, tripping as they fell into black holes and swirled around endlessly in such whirlpools, clambering to get out and make themselves known. _This is what you should think,_ they were telling her, screaming at her, as they spun to their deaths. _You should think that it's nonsense, that it's insanity. You should think that it's the truth. Insanity. Truth. Insanity. Truth. Reality._

"I'll see you." She said, almost jumping off the ottoman, surprising Doug and not caring if Anthy was hurt that she didn't acknowledge her. 

"Where are you going?" 

Doug seemed to know. In fact, the whole fucking world seemed to know what she was going to do. What she'll always be doing, what she _has_ done, what she wants to do, what she needs to do. The whole _fucking world_ knows her better than she herself ever will and _why is that_ it's because she _created_ it. Everybody stares at her yet nobody cares because they all _know,_ and they all can _guess, _we know what you want. We know you want to get out. Get _out._

"I'm going out." 

"Come back." Doug said. And suddenly it was all so very simple. 

"Yeah." She said. "Soon." 

She practically ran out the door, ignoring the glances tossed her way with easy nonchalance. She ignored the coldness of the metal railing as she chose to make her way down the stairs instead of the elevator. She didn't _need_ and elevator to go deeper, she didn't _need_ an elevator to get from the top to the bottom. She could do it herself. 

She opened the door and she was outside, the cars humming in the distance, on the highway, the one she had never crossed. The lights shone in the distance, the ones she had never seen. The stars winked at her in the sky and they didn't say anything to her, they weren't even lights. They were just there, these _things,_ plastered to the infinity of the stratosphere without knowing it. 

"Utena." A voice said, and she turned around, saw somebody leaning against a wall. 

She laughed, and stopped it before it became hysterical. "Where's your _boy?_" She asked. 

He didn't answer. 

"_Mikage._" She said. "I knew you were going to be here." She chuckled to herself, threw her arms up to the sky, spun around in the street, before she walked back to the sidewalk. "I think I knew you were going to be here because you're always following me." 

"Correction." Mikage said. "I'm just _here._ It's a coincidence that we're here at the same time, at the same place." 

"A coincidence." She spat. "Fucking asshole." She turned to him, walked towards him so that he was up against a wall and her hands were by the sides of his head. She knew she could smash his face in. She knew it. 

"Utena." He smiled. 

"_What do you want with me?_" She screamed, _made_ him listen. 

Mikage shrugged, a fluid movement, unhindered by hesitance, confusion. "I don't know." 

"Then don't shit around." 

"You can't kill me." He smiled, and the undercurrents of light played around the edges of his eyes. "I'm already dead." 

She was unfazed. "You're a fucking zombie, then, is that it?" She laughed, laughed in his face. "I knew it. No wonder you're so pale." 

He kept smiling, peaceful, serene, at peace with himself and with her. He made it look like being cornered and threatened was normal. He made it look unnatural. "I had a dream." He said. "In it, you were running, and you couldn't stop."

"I--" She started, and was stopped when he suddenly pushed her and then grabbed her arm, twisted it so that she was pinned to the wall now, her face pressed up against the dirty bricks, tasting dust and grime and filth, so that her head came in contact with the wall and she was left staring at a black nothing for a minute while his voice went on. 

"You couldn't stop." He said. "You tried to trip yourself because you were tired and you didn't want to run anymore. But as soon as you tried, you would only land on your feet again. And then you would keep on running. Maybe you would have run yourself to exhaustion and your legs would have kept going." 

She felt her head spinning, throbbing from the pain, as the blood pulsed in that one little vein, and it was ignored everywhere else. She could hear him, she realized. She could hear him very distinctly, like jewels, like diamonds, floating in a lake. 

"So then I come up to you, because I feel sorry for you." He said. "And do you know what I tell you?" 

"What." She croaked, found herself saying something, and she felt a surge of triumph. 

"I told you that you were running because you wanted to look for something, and you were running away, at the same time." He smiled, brought his lips up to her ear, and she tried to crane her neck away, but he held her still. "There was an element of irony in there, I think. A wizard had cast a spell on you, and nobody could save this running princess who was running away from everything. And I think I knew everything, because I had once been like that too."

"A fucking princess? Fag--" Utena laughed, managed to laugh, somehow, and then Mikage slammed her head into the wall again, not too hard, but hard enough. She choked on her spit, felt something liquid coming from her nose. 

"And then." He spoke quietly. "It was actually a gift, the wizard said. You could only run as long as everybody else in the world was frozen. Time had stopped while you were running. Only for people that were alone in their own rooms did time go on for. There was Anthy." And he whispered this, and released her so that she was leaning against the wall, and he was standing approximately two feet away from her. 

She was gasping for breath, wiping the blood away from her nose, and didn't pay attention. She tried not to, tried not to cry. The pain, she told herself. Her head hurt. That was why she was crying. He knew she was going to cry so he gave her an excuse to do it. She hated him. 

"People couldn't see you running." He said. "But I did. And she did." 

She wasn't crying, she realized. She couldn't be crying. But this salt water, like from the ocean, was pouring over her in great torrents and she was being swept up with it, and the blood was mixing with it and she felt strange, like she was being suspended, rooted to the sky. 

"And now." 

She looked up, and he was walking away, and she wanted to call out to him, _no. You told me about the Mobius strip once. I want to hear it again. I want to hear your voice again, because I know it. I know it very well, when I took a trip down that elevator except I didn't and then I saw you on top of the sky and we fought against each other. You said things. You said there was a focal point where things would cross over and that matter and anti-matter and the me and the not me couldn't exist in the same world and that they would destroy each other as soon as they were in contact. But you didn't say how they would destroy each other. You didn't say if it would be sudden or if it would be slow. You didn't say it would be physical or if it would be destroying me from the inside. And you don't tell me who I am, but you know. I wish I knew. _

She gave up, she realized. She gave up for the moment when she saw him get in a car with a boy driving it in front, and then he drove away. She realized that the whole experience had been very surreal, and that she didn't need to tell anybody about it. And this thought seemed to bring her back to her feet, seemed to revive her enough so that she could go back upstairs, take the elevator upstairs because she was too tired to walk. 

And when she opened the door to the party, Doug rushed to her and asked her how she was bleeding and why her forehead was brushed and who had done it. And she had just laughed, laughed, and laughed, ruined Michael's party so that they would have to have another one to make up for it, as she was laid on the couch and she was still laughing as Doug told somebody to get her some water and Syle had laid a wet towel on her head and Michael was in the background and fretting over what was wrong. 

And Anthy had come from her station at the punch bowl, it was ridiculous. Anthy had come and hadn't done anything but she had held her hand and cleaned the blood from her face and Utena had expected someone to rip them apart any minute but it didn't happen and as she fell asleep, as she walked into that enticing darkness, she still felt those fingers laced with hers, and she wondered if they were real, because they were supposed to be separated. 

__

What if it's not real?

I hate you.

What if none of it's real?

I hate you.

What if you're just making it up again?

I hate you.

What if she's not real?

I don't believe you. 

Another chapter of fun and weirdness! ^_^ So, how was it? I appreciate C&C… because… it helps me write. And continue ongoing fanfics. ::cough cough cough:: Um. So. Sorry to be so obnoxious. But anyway! 

There's so much I want to do with this fanfic! O_O I can't get around to it, though. I'll need to develop it for a billion more chapters until the ending. Geez. But it feels good to post again. 

Utena and Mikage. _ Utena doesn't like Mikage. Will she ever? And does that whole Mobius strip theory even make sense? I have no idea what I'm writing. Actually, I do. It just sounds better in my head. 

Coming up (not necessarily in the next chapter)… : Weirdness, surreal ness, and realizations. And a new character. A few new characters, actually. Just because you escape doesn't mean you're happy. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. 


	10. Incarnation Hypothesis

****

Rhapsody Theorem

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Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

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Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surreal-ness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense… 

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Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one (really random) take. There is a parallel universe, separated by dark matter, connected by a portal called the focal point of a Mobius strip… 

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Summary: Utena has a(nother) dream, realizes something, and Mikage pays a(nother) visit.

**10 **

A castle was burning. 

There was a prince, and a princess, and the princess was trapped in the uppermost tower of the castle, and it was burning. The prince knew what to do, he had to save the princess. 

Utena remembered that if she caught on fire, the method was to stop, drop, and roll until the flames were extinguished. She started across the marble floor of the castle entrance, and the flames were clustered into different colors, leering at her, and she threw herself on top of them to get rid of them, and before the _hiss_ of their death, she distinguished the screams from the laughter, and faces appeared out of the flames. 

The red fire was hard to put out, and Utena's clothes were scorched as she threw herself on it over and over again, feeling the burn marks where the tendrils of flame had gripped her, where the mouth of fire had whispered into her ear, _you can't defeat me, you know that, just let me be what you are, let me save you, fall into me._

She thought, a Red Dwarf is a kind of star, it's the kind of star that's ready to go out, ready to _die,_ and she thought about this as she ground the coals to dust beneath her feet.

Utena ignored the fires as they struggled to keep her from reaching the doors to the stairs, as they tried to pull her back. An orange flame gripped at her neck, a blue one reached for her arm, and a green one tried to throw her down completely, and the red flame kept coming back, whispering things into her ear, lightly tickling it, gently burning the skin away there. 

__

Just come back, just give up.

By the time she reached the tower, she was burnt and charred all over, but she thought, _rescuing the princess will be worth it. _

She averted her eyes as she opened the last door, paying her respects to the princess, and Utena kneeled down and bent to kiss her shoes, before drawing back immediately. 

The princess was surrounded by an impenetrable white flame, and she stood there, her hand outstretched. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, her dress was white as well, and she had blue eyes. 

__

Me?

Utena's hand reached out on its own accord, and the white flame jumped enticingly, started to laugh. A deep voice seemed to whisper in her ear now, different from that of the red flame, more gentle, more coaxing, and the smoke seemed to turn into a pair of hands that grasped her face and started to pull her in, and the princess was smiling, and Utena knew that if she let herself into the white flame as well, she could escape with the princess, unharmed. 

But then she saw a girl standing outside the window, and it was day outside, and the girl had dark skin, had green eyes, tears pouring down her face, and she was wearing a red cloak, tattered, and her hand held a torch, a torch that gleamed different colors, and the curtains were enveloping her as they caught on fire. 

__

No. Utena thought, and drew back from the tendrils of white smoke, her eyes widening, focusing on the girl by the window. _No, wait--_

She started the fire, something was telling her, frantic. _She's the one that deserves to die, she's the one who began it all--_

The tears were dripping down Anthy's face, and they were putting out the fire on the torch, but the flames kept springing back to life, and there was no water, and Utena pulled out of the princess's hands and felt it as the white fire left her, as she fell, as she crawled over to the window, managing to grab onto Anthy's legs before she jumped out. 

"Don't do it." She said, and she was crying as well, and she couldn't see anything. The princess was gone now, the white flame was gone, and they were alone in the tower, darkness around them, coffins everywhere, ready to catch them once they died. 

Anthy's eyes were still unfocused, struggling to look somewhere, as if she couldn't see. "Utena?" 

"Anthy." Utena was saying, crying, her hands fumbling as she raised herself up, made herself look in her eyes, made herself look into those green eyes. "Anthy, we'll jump. Don't let go of my hand, don't let go--" 

"But I started the fire, Utena." Anthy was saying, her voice stuck in her throat, and she had to force them past her teeth, grit them out as her body shook. "You have to leave me here, I deserve to be burned--" 

"I don't _care._" Utena said, a broken smile on her face, and she grasped Anthy's hand, the one that held the torch, and she held it tightly, as if trying to reassure herself, trying to tell herself that they could jump and land somewhere, land in the same place. Liquid fire rolled down the flames and burned her hands, but she didn't care. 

The castle was shaking around them, the foundations were breaking, the structure was going to collapse, and Utena threw herself out the window, her hand secure in Anthy's. 

"Let go, Utena--" Anthy was saying, the wind rushing past them. 

"_No--_" 

But the flames were licking Anthy's arm, and she was crying again, silently, tears falling up as they fell down, and Utena felt Anthy's hand crumble into ashes, and then she had nothing left to hold onto. 

Utena was falling with her back facing the ground, with her face up, and she saw Anthy's body burn away, the torch falling as the flames finally were extinguished, and she saw the form of Anthy's body in the ashes, as they seemed to hang there, suspended, and Utena kept falling, and falling, and the ground beneath her seemed to shift, as the earth turned into a star of white fire and it seemed to pull her into it, as she kept fighting it, kept fighting this force of gravity, her heart felt dry as the wind flew at her. 

__

But I didn't tell you. 

Utena looked up, and the ashes were still suspended there, but then--

__

I have a second chance, and you don't, because...

A hand seemed to come out of the ashes, and then a pair of butterfly's wings seemed to rise out of the ashes, and they were silver and green, and then Anthy seemed to unfurl from the wings, and she pulled into a dive, her hand outstretched. 

__

Your second chance is somewhere else--

"I told you." 

Utena turned her head, and Mikage was leaning out of a castle window as the castle crumbled around him, his arms crossed, and he was looking at her, and he was shaking his head, and he said,

"I told you." 

The white light of the star gleamed under her, and Anthy's hand was stretched out, and Mikage was leaning against the window, Utena felt the last of her tears evaporate and she knew that it was too late.

__

Anthy, you're late. She remembered thinking. _Where have you been?_

The other girl had gone out, because it was a Saturday night, and she had gone to visit her brother. Utena had stayed up that night, studying, and had fallen asleep at the table, Chu Chu dozing next to her. The lights had been on when she had fallen asleep over her books, but when she opened her eyes, the room was dark, and Anthy was there next to her. 

The dark head was curled up on one shoulder, and Anthy's hand had been covering hers. 

She had thought, _Anthy, you're late._ She had thought, _we should go to bed._

But a feeling of contentment, _because she's home_, had seemed to filter through her, and she had turned her hand so that her palms were touching with Anthy's, and between them, even though Anthy didn't know it, the world seemed quiet, it seemed peaceful, here in the solitude of their dormitory. 

When she thought about it, it was the eye of the storm, the center of the hurricane.

__

You will eventually understand it.

What?

Your world, your psyche. 

It's my mind. There isn't anything I don't know about it.

A common misconception.

Who are you? 

I'm another extension of you, and I was here before you.

When Utena woke up, she was in her own room, there was a damp towel on her head, and the African violet on her windowsill wasn't wilting anymore. There was another vase there, a single pink rose stemming from it. 

She struggled to get up, her head spinning, and she swung her feet over the side of the bed, taking the towel off her head. The sun was just setting, and the room was a warm shade of orange and red, and the bed next to hers was neatly made, a white rat curled up on the pillow. 

"Chu Chu." She called, putting a hand up to her head, as if that could stop the spinning. "Hey, Chu Chu." 

The thing on the pillow stirred a little, and went back to sleep. 

"Is Mikage outside?" She asked, and looked to the door, and it opened. 

"Utena." Anthy stood there, bathed in the light of the setting sun. "Are you feeling better?" 

"Yeah." Utena said, pushing all the confusion and the misery to the back of her head, and she grinned. "God, what a bitch." 

Anthy raised an eyebrow. "Who?" 

"The professor." She said. "We had a fight." 

"At Doug's party?" Anthy asked. 

"Yeah." Utena scratched her head. "I met him outside, and we had a disagreement."

"He's outside right now." Anthy said quietly. "He wants to apologize." 

"Why?" Utena told her heart to stop hammering in her chest, tried to stop the bead of sweat from rolling down the side of her face. "He doesn't need to. I started it." 

"He wants to apologize for hitting you." Anthy said, her eyes betraying the tiniest bit of worry. "Doug was going to call the authorities, but Syle talked him out of it. Doug was furious." 

"With who?" Utena laughed. "I didn't mean to insult his idol." 

"He's angry with the professor." Anthy said. 

"Anthy." Utena said, shaking her head, getting to her feet, feeling how cold the floor was, and she walked to the door, and reached out for the dark-skinned girl, brought her into an embrace, held her close, and Anthy smelled like violets and Utena let go and stepped back, embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry." She said. 

"Hello, Utena." 

"Mikage." She nodded. "How are you?" 

"I wanted to apologize." He said. 

"Apology accepted." 

"Utena." 

"What?"

"Do you know why you're here?" 

"Because I escaped." 

"We both did." 

"And we did it for them." 

"We didn't want to revolutionize the world for ourselves." 

"That's what makes us different." 

"Different from who?" 

"From everybody else." 

"But you know you were supposed to stay there." 

"What?" 

"I came before you. When I realized it, this revolution, I escaped. But you weren't supposed to escape. You were supposed to stay in that universe, the one with the school, and the Rose Bride." 

"Why?" 

"You're the other half of the Mobius strip, Utena. You crossed over into this universe, and you've disturbed this balance. By revolutionizing the world, you demonstrated the fact that you wanted a way out. But we're the opposing halves of a singular world, Utena, we're two different things, but we're the same thing. Utena, that world from before is a stable one, one with a structure. I created the system to save someone I loved." 

"I did it for her." Utena said. "I did it for Anthy." 

"Everybody has their counterparts, Utena." Mikage said. "You're not supposed to be here. Anthy's not supposed to be here. We're supposed to exist in two different spheres, we're supposed to be a separate entity. With you here, you're corrupting the stability of this world." 

"You want me to go back?" She said, shaking. "You want me to go back to _that?_" 

"Utena." Mikage was saying, shaking his head. "I told you." 

"Utena?" Anthy said, looking out into the kitchen. "I think he left." 

The room was empty, except for them, and Utena clenched her jaw. 

"Yeah." She turned on her heel, stormed back into her bedroom. "All the better."

__

You're not going to make her go back there.

I can't do anything. But if we keep going like this...

I won't let you take her away. 

I told you that if matter meets its counterpart, they eliminate each other. 

All I wanted was for her to be happy.

How did she find you? 

She has a life here. 

I wonder how she found you, over such distances--

Mikage--!

Space, and time... it's irrelevant now.

Smooj. _ I know this doesn't make much sense when you read it, but reviews are still appreciated (ehe). I _know_ that when I'm done with this fic, I'm going to add a really long author's notes section explaining everything. It sounds coherent when it's in my head, anyway.


	11. Recrudesce Postulate

****

Rhapsody Theorem

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Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

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Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. It's surreal, rambling, and half of the fanfic might not make any sense… 

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Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one (really random) take. There is a parallel universe, separated by dark matter, connected by a portal called the focal point of a Mobius strip… 

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Summary: Utena meets her favorite professor again, with some interesting consequences. 

**11 **

It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and Utena noticed that the roses on her windowsill had been changed. They were white roses now, and as she put on her jeans and her shirt, she walked into the kitchen. Anthy was already there, and the smell of pancakes reached her nose. 

"G'morning." She yawned, and sat down at the table, propping her chin up with a hand. 

"Good morning, Utena." 

"I don't know," she suddenly said, and was looking out the window, the sun streaming in through, Anthy's white rat curled up on a pillow directly under one of rays of sunlight. 

"Don't know what?" Anthy said, and walked over, placed a stack of pancakes (three) in front of Utena, a fork, a knife, wrapped in a napkin, and a bottle of maple syrup.

"Don't know why--"

__

You're here. Why Mikage isn't just a professor. Why this doesn't feel like it's real, why my dreams don't feel real. Why there's war. Why people need to revolt. Why roses remind me of princes, why you're the princess and the witch in my dream. I don't know why Doug isn't coming back, I wonder why our microwave hasn't been fixed yet. 

Utena shook her head. "I don't know whether your rat has been neutered." 

Anthy blinked her large, green eyes, looking somewhat like a doe. "Neutered? I don't think so." 

"Listen--" Utena tried, but her mouth quirked in a half-smile. "I don't want him to breed all over the place with the other rats in the walls." 

Anthy turned to the thing curled up on the pillow, and smiled as well. "I think he's celibate." 

Utena was pouring her coffee and she almost spilled it. "You're kidding, right?" 

She shook her head. "I've never seen Chu Chu affiliate with anything. He's just not a romantic, I guess." 

"He doesn't crap all over the place, does he?"

Anthy gave her a demure smile. "Have you smelled anything?" 

The room smelled like daisies and lilies and roses, and Utena looked around for an air freshener, maybe one of those that you plugged into the wall. "No."

"He doesn't." 

"That's good." 

"Anyway." 

She added the milk to her coffee, stirred the sugar in, the spoon clinking inside the cup.

"He's not, you know." Anthy suddenly said, and Utena glanced up.

"What?"

"Tou-- Doug." She corrected. "He's not coming back. He told me himself, he had already moved some of his things out when you were in class the other day. He gave me a few forms and told me to fill them out and turn them into the administration by the end of this week."

Utena shrugged, suddenly feeling as if a load had been lifted off her shoulders. "You're a better roommate." 

Anthy seemed to flush, although her dark skin wouldn't have shown it. "Really?" 

"Yeah." Utena said, through a mouthful of pancake. "You can cook." She gave Anthy a smile, half-joking. "And you don't insist on having sex with anonymous strangers right before I wake up." 

"Oh." Anthy probably was blushing now, but she bowed her head, and Utena couldn't see her face. "Did he--"

"Mm-hmm." Utena nodded, taking a gulp of her coffee. "Syle's not really a stranger... but still. Right when I woke up after my coma." 

"Your coma." Anthy said, and the room suddenly became still. Utena felt vaguely uncomfortable, although she couldn't figure out why. 

"I think I overdosed on opium, or at least that's what _they_ told me." Utena snorted. "You don't overdose on _opium-- _I mean, the stuff is outdated. It had to be some kind LSD, combined with something else. I can't really remember anything before that. I mean," she paused, gauging Anthy's expression, "I knew everybody." 

"Did you?" Anthy's voice seemed far away. 

"Well." Utena colored. "No. But I was comfortable around them, so I guess I subconsciously remembered, or something like that. I mean, they're all... them. Themselves." 

"Oh." 

"But yeah." Utena grinned, somewhat into her pancake, somewhat at Anthy. "I saw your forms for housing application-- you're missing one, so I'll get that for you."

"Thank you." Anthy said, and sat down next to Utena, staring off into space. 

"Did you eat breakfast?"

Anthy looked at Utena for a minute, as if not seeing her, and then slowly shook her head. "No."

"Then make yourself something." Utena frowned. "You can cook well enough." 

"No--" Anthy shook her head again. "I'm not usually hungry."

"Right." Utena finished her coffee, grimacing at the empty mug. "Hey, Anthy." 

"Yes?"

"Do you know how to brew tea?" She blurted, and didn't know why. Flashes of memories through her head, and then they left, as if they had never been there. 

"Yes. We can have it tomorrow morning, if you don't mind." Anthy seemed pleased, she was sitting back in her chair, her hands clasped together. 

"Yeah." Utena was suddenly embarrassed, and she avoided eye contact by staring into her empty plate. "It just didn't seem right without the tea." 

There was a breeze blowing that morning, and Utena's eyes followed a stray can as it rolled off the sidewalk and into the grass. 

"Hey, girl." 

A hand on her shoulder, and Utena almost jumped. Doug's smile was a little off today, a little hazy. 

"All right, what happened?" She tried to scowl, but it ended up turning up into a smile. 

"Syle just happened to be in the mood this morning." 

"Since when wasn't he?" 

"I don't know." Doug said. "But it's different. He was kind of... well... out there. For a while." 

Utena squinted towards the sun and kept walking. A squirrel darted in front of her, crossing the sidewalk, and disappeared into the bushes on the other side. 

"I mean," Doug went on, and Utena listened, "he was spacing out. And then he pounced on me when I asked him what was wrong." Doug laughed. "Horny bastard."

"Aren't all men?" Utena said, and Doug mock-slapped her upside her head. 

"So how's your new roommate?" He asked her, once she had finished pummeling his side. 

"I told her she makes a better roomie than you do." Utena scoffed. "And she actually _does_ stuff around the dorm. Unlike somebody I used to know." 

"You still know me." Doug replied easily. "And I don't remember a certain girl doing _stuff_ around the dorm either." 

"I'm sure you and Syle do all sorts of _stuff_ all the time." 

"And what would this _stuff_ be?" 

Her lips quirked. "Queer." 

Doug shrugged. "You never argued about it before." 

Utena shook her head in exasperation. "Never?" 

"Never." 

"Then I wonder why the hell I was thinking about hitting you when I woke up." 

"When you woke up--" Doug's eyes widened, glimmered with mirth. "Well, that was a mistake." 

"... Consciously deciding to engage in scandalous acts with your so-called boyfriend in front of a _comatose_ woman... that was considered a mistake? Let me write this down." 

"It was a mistake." Doug pouted. "You don't believe me?" 

Utena laughed. "I'm just kidding. Keep your pants on."

Doug sighed. "If you absolutely insist." 

They walked in silence for a while, and Utena let the noises of other peoples' conversations filter into her head. Doug really had no sense of decency sometimes, but nature called. Sex was inevitable. Utena frowned. Oh wait, that applied to pissing. Never mind. 

Wait--

"Hey, Doug." 

"Hm?" He glanced in her direction, and they veered off the sidewalk in the direction of the lecture hall. The stepped on leaves, and she heard them crunch under her feet.

"How'd I get out of the hospital if I was still in a coma?" 

The question didn't faze him, and he kept walking. "Actually, Utena, you woke up in the hospital." 

"I did?" Utena blinked. "And there's _another_ thing I don't remember. Shit." 

"Calm down." Doug said. "You woke up and you were babbling incoherently about being a florist. Roses everywhere. And you were apologizing for failing something. Your entrance exams, maybe?"

__

I'm sorry I couldn't save you--

Utena blinked again. "My entrance exams." She said blankly. "Right." 

"Well, you went to sleep after that, and then you woke up again and you were talking all right. You called me Touga when I came to visit you. The doctor said it was some sort of selective amnesia or something, that Touga must have been somebody from your past. Of course, this stuff all passes eventually, or that's what they said. But still, you freaked out when I visited you another time and Syle was there with me." Doug whistled. "Damn."

"What'd I do?" Utena asked. She remembered pieces of her childhood, yes, her parents dying in an accident, her imaginary friends she created to help her through-- the prince, the princess, she had pretended she was the princess. And then she remembered barely getting through high school, determined to go to college, and then she was here. And she remembered Doug as her roommate, going to a party, and being high on drugs, something, and purple waves. Everything after that was a blank, and here she was now. 

"You took him aside and spoke with him." Doug laughed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Asked what the hell he was doing with me. Said that he could do better than a whore like me. You rambled on about some girl named Wakaba, and how she almost died when he didn't ask her to the prom. He thought you were a complete lunatic. He couldn't remember what you called him, but it wasn't Syle." 

"Oh." Utena said. "I don't remember--"

"Well, of course you don't." Doug snapped. "And it's really, really, convenient that you don't." 

"Shut the fuck up." Utena spat, glowered as she stared at her feet and counted to ten. Doug reached it before her, because the next thing, she was in his arms and he was rubbing her shoulders. 

"I'm sorry." He said. "It just bothers me that you don't remember anything. And I feel partly responsible, because it _was_ me who took you to that party." 

"It's all right." Utena sighed in relief, and felt her body sag against his. "Just tell me how the hell the doctors let me go. Aren't they anal about that kind of thing?"

Doug stood back and regarded her. "Well, they said that it would take time for you to readjust to your surroundings, things like that. And that maybe it would help if you were back in your dorm, living like before. I had to call them every day, but otherwise, you did fine." 

"Did I still call you Touga?" Utena asked apprehensively.

"Yeah." Doug grinned. "You must have really hated him. You kept bitching at me. Said I was worth something, but other than that, nothing at all." 

Utena scratched her head and stared ahead. 

"Well, after a couple days of that, I really couldn't take it anymore." Doug shook his head. "We had a fight. Almost. You really were acting strangely-- you seemed completely shocked that I was gay-- and that Syle was my boyfriend. And you kept telling him to stay away from me, that I'd just hurt him again." Doug frowned. "I didn't even know where you got all those ideas from. And those stories you told. If they didn't offend me so much, I would have thought they were interesting. This Touga character _was_ really something else." 

"What stories?" Utena croaked, but Doug didn't hear her. 

"Well, we had a falling-out. Almost. And then we sort of reconciled-- you said you'd try to accept us. We kind of got along after that, and you should have seen yourself-- buying roses every fucking day of the week. Vases after vases, bouquet after bouquet of roses. I called the doctor after that night, and he told us to just humor you, since it would pass. And then he told us that when you regained your stability to pretend as if it never happened." 

__

I'm sorry I couldn't save you I'm sorry I wasn't your prince 

"It was good, I guess," Doug continued, "that you woke up one morning and you said you didn't remember _anything._ I had to reintroduce you to everybody without being completely obvious about it."

Silence, and then Utena finally spoke. "I guess I have to thank you, then. That must have been a huge thing for you." 

"It was an ordeal, yeah." Doug ran a hand through his hair. 

"Was that the reason why you moved out?" 

Doug stared at her. "No." He shook his head. "Don't think about it that way. It was just that... you know, sometimes, you find somebody, and it's just amazing that I've overlooked Syle for so long. He's always _been _there for me, even when I haven't been there for him, and then with everything happening, and that girl moving in with you-- it's just a fortunate coincidence, I guess." 

Utena's voice was bleak. "Fortunate coincidence. It's really a shame I don't remember." 

__

I'm sorry that I didn't realize sooner _I'm sorry that you had to survive that without me I'm sorry I was never there_

Doug looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right?"

Utena forced herself to laugh. "As all right as I'll ever be, I guess. Come on, let's get to class."

__

I'm home.

Welcome home, Utena.

Why is it you're always gone on Saturday nights?

__

I visit my brother.

__

You have a brother?

"Utena?" 

"What?" 

It was early in the evening, and Anthy walked into the bedroom, licking the cookie batter off her thumb. "Are you going out with Doug tonight?" 

After classes, Doug had made off with her in one arm, strangely jumpy. Syle was waiting for them outside the library, and the three of them had congregated outside. Touga had slipped his hand into Syle's, and they had talked for a while, the usual questions, how was your day, how's the weather, and Utena had tried her best not to shrink away when Syle looked at her. She didn't know what the hell she must have been thinking, to tell Syle things like that. For one thing, Doug was a perfectly wonderful person. Sometimes. And the second thing-- she didn't willingly interfere with other people's business. That was something she left to do the do-gooders of the world. 

Surprisingly, it was Syle who had mentioned the party that was being held in a club down south, and Doug had squeaked enthusiastically. Utena had rolled her eyes, but with much pleading and cajoling, she had finally relented, after making Doug swear that he would not tempt her with alphabet letters again. It would be wonderful if all three of them could return by a certain time in their right minds. 

"It's never happened _before._" Doug had protested, but he was joking. Utena was almost looking forward to it. And maybe she'd see that Jerry woman again. Maybe. According to Doug, she didn't inhabit clubs often, but one never knew. And it wasn't that Utena wanted to _see_ Jerry. No, that was just a side assortment. 

Utena's head popped through the shirt, and she put her arms through the sleeves. "You want to come with us?" The tone was half-teasing, but Utena meant it. 

Anthy visibly shrunk away from the door. "I don't think so. I'll just stay here." 

"You recluse." Utena smirked, and slipped into a skirt, the fit tight around her hips. "You should get out more often. You can borrow my clothes, if you want. I think we're the same size." 

Anthy shook her head. "No. That's okay. I have things to do--"

"More house chores?" Utena rolled her eyes. "You've already washed the dishes for today, dusted the furniture, vacuumed the floors. I think you do that _every _day." 

"It keeps things in good order." Anthy protested mildly. 

"You don't get out enough." Utena said, and walked over to her, waving her arms in the air, hips swinging to an inaudible beat. "You don't dance?" 

"I don't see the point." Anthy quipped, and walked back into the kitchen. Utena followed her. 

"You don't see the point?" She laughed." It's self-expression." 

Anthy was silent, and Utena sat down at the table and sighed. "And that's the problem. You don't express _anything._" 

"Utena." Anthy turned, and then she didn't say anything. They stared at each other like that for a while, and then the doorbell rang. That would be Doug.

"When will you be back?" Anthy asked, and Utena closed her eyes, feeling strangely nauseous, strangely stifled. 

"I don't know." She said, and stood up. "In the morning, I guess." 

Green eyes met blue eyes again, held them there for a second before looking away. 

"You don't express confusion through dancing." Anthy said.

"You wouldn't know how to." Utena replied. 

"Don't let me go home with anybody." 

"I might." Utena said. "Just to see Syle's reaction." 

The stoic man gave her an indifferent look, and Doug pouted in Utena's direction. "None of us are that masochistic."

Utena shrugged.

They entered the club after showing their identification, and Utena immediately shrank away from the dance floor, her expression carefully neutral as she surveyed the bar area up front. No sign of the lawyer. Damn, and she'd been hoping to get another free dinner.

Hospitals, she thought, and sat down at the bar, pursing her lips. She signaled for a can of beer. Hospitals, and sickness. She thought she could remember the smell, if anything. A stale, pungent smell, sweet and bitter. 

__

"Utena. You don't remember me, do you?"

"That stupid bastard Touga. Good-for-nothing playboy. What does he think he's doing? There's no Rose Bride anymore, but he's still the dominant one, isn't he? Always lording it over the others. Bastard. And now Saionji's falling for it again. Again. Bastard. Doesn't he know he's only going to get hurt? "

"Utena. Don't you remember? Shiori was my Rose Bride."

"There is no Rose Bride anymore. I wanted to free her. I wanted to rescue her, and Touga's up to something again. Why is he visiting me? He's got other things to do. And Saionji. And Wakaba. I hope Wakaba's all right. I don't think she knows where I am."

"Shiori was my Rose Bride, but I loved Juri. It's a sad thing, isn't it? Unreciprocated love. That's the way it always is, once you give into being a Rose Bride, once you give into taking one. It's a temptation, it's a curse. "

"I wish I could have saved her. I wish I could have done something. She never knew. She never knew that I--"

"Utena." 

"Who the hell are you? Shut up. I'm thinking." 

"Grant a dying man's request and look at me."

"So I'm looking now."

"We're in that place between life and death, Utena. We're somewhere in between. Do you remember who I am?" 

"Ruka." 

"Don't act so surprised."

"What the hell are you--" 

"Utena, I'm already dead." 

"It's a surprise to see you here." 

Utena looked up, trying to dispel the spots from her vision. Jerry stood in front of her. "Hi." Utena croaked, clutching the can of beer tighter in her hand so that it crinkled under the pressure. "I didn't expect to see you." 

"Then we're both in the same state of mind." Jerry said, and signaled to the bartender. 

"Do you know somebody named Ruka?" Utena blurted suddenly, and wished that she hadn't. 

The other woman sat down, contemplated it. "I can't say that I have." 

"Never mind, then." Utena said, exhaled heavily. She felt nauseous again. "Excuse me. I don't feel well." 

"Would you like me to take you home?" Jerry's offer was subtle, her voice was silky. 

Utena shook her head. "No, that's fine. I'll be back." 

The turning in her stomach had subsided a bit, but a cold sweat had broke on her forehead. She stumbled into the empty restrooms, pushed open into a stall and sat down on the toilet. "Fuck." 

__

Grant a dying man's request and look at me. We're in that place between life and death, we're somewhere in between, Utena. Do you remember who I am?

She didn't remember. With that thought in her mind, her uneasiness lifted, and she said it again, resolutely. _I don't know who the fuck you are and I don't give a fuck so just fuck off._

She didn't know who Utena was. 

"If you don't know," a voice came from outside, and Utena's heart skipped a beat, she held her breath, apprehensive, "then you shouldn't be here."

__

It's a Mobius strip, Utena. We're at that focal point right now, where the two intersect. We're at that place in between, Utena.

A car, a fire, her body burning, _Mikage, look in front of you. _

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?!" Utena screamed as she kicked open the door to the stall, met a pair of red eyes under the flickering lighting of the bathrooms. "And why the fuck are you stalking me?!" 

"It's a fortunate coincidence." Mikage replied smoothly. 

"It's a girl's _bathroom._" She said. "Get _out _of here_._" 

"I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like you are. Except your interference is on a much larger scale. I should be asking _you_ to get out." 

"Get out?" Utena laughed hysterically. "Yeah, sure, I'll get out. I'll just leave the club. Leave your motherfucking ass to yourself, you pervert, coming into girls' bathrooms and jacking off to the smell of piss in your nose. Would that make you happy? You _motherfucking asshole!_" She threw her fist at him, and he caught it, tightening her grip so that she winced at the sudden pain, and then yanked her hand out of his. 

"Utena." Mikage said, walking towards the sinks, and he looked at himself in the mirror. "Just go. But I want you to leave this place. I want you to go back to where you came from. I know you heard my seminar. I know I explained to you what my theory was, what it always has been. Utena, it's a matter of arriving there first, it's a capitalist philosophy. You were one step behind me, you were only a shadow of _me._ You don't understand what will happen if you stay. Utena, I _created_ this world, and you were not supposed to be a part of it." 

"You didn't fucking create anything." Utena spat. "You didn't create anything except for your own, fucked-up illusions of grandeur. I have no _fucking_ idea what you're talking about, and I don't care. But you want me to leave her, and I'm not going to." 

Mikage shook his head. "Do you even _remember_ what happened?" 

Utena trembled, managed to keep herself under control. "No. I don't. And I don't think it matters." 

"Everything matters." Mikage said, and he smiled, and Utena could see it from the mirror, the light playing off of strange angles, and it distorted his face, her face. 

After pulling Syle over and telling him she was going to go home early, she took a taxi back to the dormitories. The lights in the kitchen were on, but Anthy was asleep. Utena shut them off and put an oversized tee-shirt on, laying on the bed without bothering to slip under the covers. She turned so that she was facing Anthy, and she watched her like that, in the dark. There was no moon out tonight. 

Mikage was there, again, and the white star hung in the background. He was on top of a horse, dressed like a prince. 

__

We both revolutionized the world for them. 

Mikage, she said. _Where do we go when we're done? Where do we go when we've finished it? _

__

Isn't it ironic, he said,_ that I created the system with the help of Lucifer, that I made a deal with the devil to save Mamiya, and in the end, I can't even save myself?_

__

Mikage, she said. _Where do we go if we've accomplished it? Where do we go when we've revolutionized the world?_

__

Utena. He said. _You didn't revolutionize the world for yourself. You did it for Anthy. Utena, you're not the one who is free._

He rode at her, a sword in his hand. She turned to look at the glaring light of the white star, felt her eyes collapse in her head, and didn't feel the sting of the blade as it cut through her neck.

She blinked, and as her eyes focused, she saw a white ceiling above her, pristine white walls cascading down. Sunlight streaked in from a window beside her when she looked, and she had to turn her head slightly to her right. The window was large and a vase of white roses stood on the nightstand next to her. Outside, there was the sun, there were the shadows of people walking by and she saw somebody peer in through the window with interest. She sat up, her head spinning, ignoring the person who was looking through the window. 

"So you're awake." A voice said, and she looked around. Somebody in a white school uniform was leaning against the frame of the door, and he ran a hand through his hair as he approached, crouching down next to her. She subconsciously backed away, and pulled her covers around her. 

"Who are you?"

"I'm Touga Kiryuu." He said. "This is Kyouichi Saionji." He gestured to the person next to him who looked at her with faint disdain in his eyes. 

"Charmed, I'm sure." She said uncertainly. 

"You were found outside the entrance of the school." Touga said. "A stray baseball had managed to hit your head, and I guess you were knocked out." He shrugged. 

"So what's your name?" Saionji asked, and she blinked as they stared at each other. "Are you a student here?" 

"I--" 

"Touga! Saionji--!" 

The man in question groaned. "Not again." He muttered, and Touga gave a good-natured laugh. 

A girl with doe-like eyes peered through the door. "There you are!" 

"Where else would he be?" Touga stood up. 

"Well, he's always with you, Mr. Ex-Student-Council-President." The girl said, raising an eyebrow. "Saionji, you don't need to _hide_ from me, you know." 

Touga smiled warmly even as he stood a little closer to Saionji, almost protectively. "Congratulations on the election results, Wakaba." 

"It's not every day you get to be the new student council president." She grinned. "And being the student council president, I have to take it upon myself to... I don't know. See to the well being of the students. As _you_ always did, Touga." 

He laughed, and Saionji glowered. "I always did, didn't I?"

"Anyway." Wakaba ushered her way towards the cot, and extended her hand out in greeting. "I'm Wakaba Shinohara, the new student council president of Ohtori Academy." 

She couldn't help but grin at the girl's incessant cheerfulness, and felt herself smile as well, and shook Wakaba's hand. "I'm--"

The girl suddenly withdrew her hand and took a step back, her eyes wide in shock. "Oh." She gasped. "It's _you._" 

Saionji's expression changed as well. "Utena." 

"You've changed." Touga was beside her again, and he stared at her face coldly, his lips thin. "We didn't recognize you." 

"Utena Tenjou." Wakaba said, and she smiled uneasily, confusion inherent in her voice. "What happened to you? Where'd you go?" 

"Where did I... go?" Utena's eyes widened, and she looked around her hopelessly. "Didn't you say I was found outside the school grounds?" 

"You left so suddenly." Wakaba said. "You just disappeared. And we had all thought that you transferred to a different school or something." 

"Did I?" Utena found herself short of breath, knew that these faces should be familiar. 

"Welcome back, Utena." Touga said. "Will you be attending Ohtori again?" 

"Where is this?" Utena asked, and Wakaba looked like she had been slapped, and Saionji and Touga both froze. 

"Utena, what happened to you?" Wakaba asked. 

"What happened--" Utena said, and a bell rang somewhere. 

"Classes are starting." Saionji said, and looked at her. "We'd better leave." 

"Utena." Touga was saying. "You don't remember?" 

"What's there to remember?" She asked, and it was like it had all happened before, like she was reading off a script somewhere, and she was just rehearsing it, and her life was going to be an act in a play, in the grand scheme of things. 

__

Touga, Saionji, Wakaba. She thought. _And there's Miki, Kozue, and Kanae. There's Keiko, and Nanami, and Juri, and Shiori, and Ruka. There's Tsuwabuki, and Chu Chu, and Akio, and Anthy--_

"Where's Anthy?" She asked, and Touga and Saionji and Wakaba stared at her like she was from outer space. 

"She left." Touga said, the first one to speak. "She left the campus a while ago." 

"We have no Rose Bride, if that's what you mean." Saionji said, and Touga glared sharply at him.

"Rose Bride--?" Wakaba said, and Touga gave her a reassuring look. 

"It's nothing." 

"And Akio--?" She asked. "Where's Akio?"

"You don't _need _him." Saionji said. "We never needed him." 

"Akio?" Wakaba said. "The chairman?" 

"We should be going." Touga said. "The bell rang."

They left, and shut the door after them. Utena's legs felt numb, and even if she had wanted to chase after them, she wouldn't have. 

A change of clothes lay at the foot of her bed-- a girl's school uniform. She took off the infirmary robes, and put on the skirt and the shirt, slipping the tie through the collar. She put the socks and the shoes on, rubbed her hands to get some feeling in them, and then stood up. There was nobody in the room with her, nobody who would watch her leave.

It was as if something was pulling her in some direction, and she followed her instinct, let the invisible hand guide her. Students glided around her as she pushed through them and towards a looming forest, trees hanging ominously overhead. 

__

A castle, she thought. _I think there's a castle up there._

A door of marble stood in front of her, water running down the sides of a path. She put her hand on the door's handle, and heard something clicking and whirling, like her dream, where somebody was rolling down the hill, mechanisms of clocks turning in their heads, everything breaking when it reached the bottom, the source of the water, that glittering lake with the diamond fish in it. 

__

Minnows. They change direction in the water quickly. I wish I could be like that, change, and turn, without looking back. I wish I could have saved you, without thinking of the consequences, without wondering what would happen. I wish we could have revolutionized the world together, and maybe we did, and maybe we didn't. But we both escaped, and he wants to put me back here. There are an infinite number of universes that exist. I don't need to be confined to one place. I don't need to be here.

Water crashed around her, and she looked at her ring finger, and felt that something was missing. 

__

It's so many things. It's fighting for these abstract ideals that you find that there are places where you don't belong. Nothing ever agrees with itself, you know, nobody ever supports you unanimously. I want you to recognize that pain, to feel as I did, the isolation, the loneliness, fighting for something you want. You revolutionized the world for them, but you'll be the only one who recognizes what it means. 

Mikage, she says, and it's a whisper. Mikage, what are you doing to me?

Utena. We can't exist together, you know that. You're the only one who ever succeeded.

Go back, Utena.

Mikage, I can't. She says. She followed me out here. I can't bring her back there. I can't.

Her eyes are wide open when she wakes up, because something has startled her. Water is dripping down her face, and her pillow is wet. She stares up at the ceiling, just as the first rays of dawn come in through the blinds. Her hair is plastered to her face as looks around the room. Anthy is still sleeping, her chest rising and falling with each breath. The vase on the windowsill has been tipped over, the water is dripping on her face, and the roses lie on the floor. 

She sits up in bed and picks up the roses, avoiding the thorns, and puts them back in the vase. She goes into the bathroom and fills the vase up again. She wipes the water off her face with a towel and returns to the bed and puts the filled vase back on the windowsill. She turns her pillow over so that it's dry, and closes her eyes, and ignores Mikage's voice in her head. 

I promise I AM going somewhere with the fic. ;_; It's actually starting to come together now. In a way. Sort of. You see, Mikage is being a selfish bastard. Hm. 

Thanks to everybody who still believes in this story (and reads it!). =D RL has been really hectic lately, but I hope this somewhat-longer chapter makes up for it a little. 

As to the readers who have fished out some of the symbolism in the story, hooray for you! ^_^ For one thing, my efforts have been noticed (which makes me very happy). All right! This isn't such a loony story after all! 

Next chapter: Stuff will happen. What exactly does Mikage want, and why? 


	12. Concurrence Axiom

**Rhapsody Theorem**

_Disclaimers: _Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

_Warnings: _Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. It's surreal, rambling, and half of the fanfic might not make any sense…

_Rants: _This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively blacks out upon? Well... this is one (really random) take. There is a parallel universe, separated by dark matter, connected by a portal called the focal point of a Mobius strip…

_Summary:_ Utena meets her favorite professor again, with some interesting consequences.

* * *

****

**12**

_You're like a fish in an aquarium, looking out; yet you don't belong in there, in the water. When somebody takes you out, you die a slow and painful death, and then you wake up again. You're on the other side of the glass, but you don't remember why you wanted to be out here._

When she wakes up, Anthy is gone. A note is taped to the refrigerator door, "_I'm running errands._"

Utena goes through her usual morning routine, an empty, hungry feeling gnawing at her heart. Maybe it's her stomach, maybe she's mistaken. She tastes the bad taste in her mouth, stale water and rotting flowers, as she brushes her teeth. She sticks the toothbrush down her throat when she brushes her tongue, and her eyes water.

Utena can hear Doug's voice now as she drops wearily onto the couch in front of the television and turns it on. She can hear Doug's voice berating her for not keeping up with her studies, not attending classes, not _trying_.

He doesn't know, and maybe she doesn't know, but she thinks that once, she _did_ try, and everything right now is wholly and completely insignificant.

She doesn't want Anthy to come back, she thinks. She wants her to stay away, forever running errands of the miscellaneous type, forever running from here to there and never back. Why does Anthy make her feel this way, she asks herself, knowing the answer. She doesn't believe in reincarnation and she doesn't believe in Mikage's theory, but somehow, that seems to be the only answer.

_You were running._ She hears him say again, a voice out of a memory. _You could only run as long as everybody else in the world was frozen. Time had stopped while you were running. Only for people that were alone in their own rooms did time proceed as usual._

Something had happened, Utena thinks, and doesn't remember. And Anthy--

She wants to talk to somebody, and so she grabs her coat and heads outside. The air is brisk and cool, unbecoming of the sunny day, and the wind catches her hair and pushes it into her eyes. She is walking and walking, and she knows that he will come up any minute now, because it seems like fate and destiny, linked Mobius strips proclaiming some undetermined fate that has the potential to become reality.

"You knew I was going to be here." Utena stops, and says to the thin air. "You knew, didn't you?"

A student walking past glances up from her latte, and Utena walks on, murmuring to herself.

"Come on, Mikage." She says, walking past the flower shop, a dark-skinned, dark-haired girl catching her eye. Utena forces herself to look away, because she doesn't want to see Anthy right now. Not yet-- not while she still doesn't have the answers. She knows Anthy is buying roses; that's all she needs to know about the girl right now.

The professor is sitting at a cafe when Utena rounds the next corner, and she sits down next to him. They are restrained today; his usual cynicism held in check, Utena keeps her ferocity at bay. She stands there, looking at him, while he's reading the newspaper. Utena looks at the newspaper, squints at it. The headlines are a blur to her.

"Sit down." The professor indicates to the empty chair beside him.

"Where's your boy?" Utena asks. It seems customary for her to ask this. It seems as if she is the only one who has the right to ask this.

"Where's your girl?" The professor replies, and Utena feels the heat rushing up to her face, a surprisingly pleasant feeling on a cold morning like this.

"She's running errands." Utena says, and adjusts her coat around her. "And your boy?"

Mikage looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "I don't have the energy to sustain him."

Utena closes her eyes, then opens them again, a slow blinking motion "So who _is_ he?"

Mikage shakes his head, a pinched smile pulling his lips tight over his teeth. "He was somebody I loved. That I still love."

"So you escaped here." Utena says, and signals for the waitress, indicating that she wanted a coffee. Across the table, Mikage sets down his newspaper and folds his hands. Utena waits apprehensively.

"Technically, I escaped." Mikage says. "I was supposed to have revolutionized something for him. He was ill, and I wanted him to be physically—emotionally— sustained."

"I wanted the same thing for her."

Mikage gives her a condescending look. "You didn't want the same thing. You didn't know what the hell you were fighting for. You were just dragged along into it all."

"You don't know a fucking thing about me."

"You don't know your situation."

Utena grinds her teeth. She wants answers. She will have them.

"So what's my purpose here?"

Mikage shrugs. "You're here because you escaped. It's not a coincidence that you're here as well as I am. You like an antithesis to my being. You're a separate entity, yet we're almost the same. By my theory--" Mikage taps his fingertips together. "--one of us is supposed to depart from this comforting place." He gestures to their surroundings, their vaguely familiar surroundings, the ones that Utena supposedly has known her whole life and has supposedly forgotten.

"I tried my best." Mikage says. "I tried to force you back there."

"The gate was open to me--" Utena blurts out, suddenly remembering. "I was there, and they were all there-- and I wanted to come back-- so I did."

"I can't get rid of you, Utena." Mikage says, a smile stealing over his features. "You're too headstrong."

"It's not that." Utena frowns. "Something pulled me back."

"That _thing_--" Mikage leans in, "would be your girl."

"She's not my girl." Utena flushes again, feeling the heat rise in her face. "She's doesn't belong to anyone." The words seem wrong when she says them, but Mikage grants her a bemused smile and sits back.

"That's an accurate statement." He says. "You see, Utena-- we are human beings, solid, tangible things. We are transportable across the focal points. We are made of _matter_. _They,_ on the other hand--" he says, "--are ideals. They are transient. They are omnipotent and ubiquitous. There is no way to label them as distinct entities. They are abstract things, formulated from our fragile human minds to sustain ourselves."

"Anthy is a _person._" Utena narrows her eyes. "And so is your boy."

"He is as real to me as your girl is to you." Mikage stands up. "And if you please, I will excuse myself now."

"I want the answers, Mikage." Utena stands up as well. "You created this place, didn't you?"

Mikage shakes his head and pulls his jacket on. "No, I didn't." He smiles. "I fell into it, much like you did. I've managed to exert some control over this place over the time I've spent here.

But one of us must exist on the other side of the focal point, Utena."

"I'm not going back." Utena's jaw tightens. "And Anthy's not going back."

"I'm not going back." Mikage says. "I'm going to stay here with Mamiya."

They look at each other like that for a while, and the waitress gives them a curious, bewildered glance when she sets the coffee down in front of Utena.

"You can tell yourself that she's real." Mikage says. "Just keep telling yourself that it's true."

"Don't give me that existentialist bullshit." Utena's voice is hoarse with an unnamed emotion, somewhere between frustration and acceptance, somewhere between resignation and violence. "She's real. You--" Utena's raises her voice as he turns to leave. "You just don't believe in anything. And if you don't believe in anything, if you don't even believe that the person you love is _real,_ maybe _you're_ the one that needs to go back."

There is a momentary hesitance in Mikage's step, and then he's gone. Utena sits back down and finishes her coffee, feeling it burn in her throat.

* * *

When she arrives back in the dormitory, Anthy has finished arranging the pink roses by the windowsill. She turns to look at Utena, and Utena drops her bag and kicks off her shoes so that they lie in a heap by the door. She doesn't care, she thinks, and walks over to Anthy.

"Did you buy those this morning?" She asks, and she already knows the answer.

"Just a few minutes ago." Anthy's voice is soft, melodic, a clear whisper.

"Anthy--" Utena lifts a hand up to the girl's face, traces the line of her eyebrows. "You've--"

The light streams in, yellow and orange. Doug is going to be furious at her, Utena thinks. This is the hundredth class she's missed. She doesn't care.

"You weren't there last night, Utena." Anthy says, worry clouding her voice, heavy and dense and still gentle and lucid. "I woke up and you weren't in the room--"

Utena smiles, and remembers Mikage, and what he said. _I had tried to force you back there._

She doesn't think about that, though. Anthy is alive under her fingertips, and Mikage doesn't believe in anything. She wonders if it had been like this on the other side of the Mobius strip, if they had looked at each other like this before, breathing rushed and unhurried at the same time, the golden glow of skin, all the time in the world.

"I think--" Utena's voice catches in her throat. "I think I might--" Utena doesn't want to say it, and maybe she doesn't _know_ how to say it.

Anthy's eyes widen imperceptibly, and Utena can hear her intake of breath.

They stand there for a long time, just this tiny pressure of touch between them, Utena's fingers just grazing Anthy's cheekbones. Utena presses her lips to the corner of Anthy's mouth, and holds herself completely still, her eyes open, watching for the other girl's reaction.

Anthy pulls away first, emotions playing subtly beneath her eyes. "You're missing your class." She says.

Utena grins, unabashedly happy, and sticks her hands into her pockets. "I know."

* * *

The air feels lighter around her, and she thinks—no, she _knows,_ that something fundamental has changed.

"Looking good, Utena." Doug steps into place beside her, and she grins at him. "Finally get laid?"

She punches him and laughs. "Don't think so. Not everybody is like you."

Doug raises an eyebrow. "I had to think of a decent reason that you were missing from class this morning. It had to be the sex."

"There _is _no sex." Utena feels a blush coming along, and does her best to suppress it. "There _was _no sex."

"So you say." Doug raises the other eyebrow. "All the same, you look better."

"Good things happen." Utena shrugs easily, and the world seems so fluid, so _variable_—one touch from her fingers could send it spiraling into a kaleidoscope of images, of emotions.

"Well, then." Doug says, and he sounds amused. "I'm happy for you."

* * *

She sees Jerry after class, standing outside, talking to Doug. The woman isn't dressed formally today—she looks comfortable in a polo shirt and jeans, her bright orange hair tied up in a loose ponytail, curls cascading down her back.

"Ah," Jerry says, when she sees Utena. "how's my favorite girl doing?"

Doug shakes his head and answers for Utena. "A lot better than before. No more frown, see?" And then Doug presses his hands to her cheeks and bats her around. "She got laid." He whispers conspiratorially to Jerry, and the woman gives her an amused smile.

"Don't tell me it's that girl?" She says, and Utena feels her face grow hot.

"No." She says. "No." She says again, emphatically.

"You're not convincing me, you know." Jerry laughs, and Doug laughs with her. Utena feels embarrassed, at the same time, jubilant. She tells herself, _it was just one little kiss. _

Then why did everything feel like it had fallen into place? Utena stares at Jerry, at Doug, for a minute. No, something isn't quite right. But it feels better than it did before.

"Enjoying the view?" Doug quips, and Utena shakes her head.

"Can't say that I am." Utena smirks, and tweaks his nose.

* * *

She imagines it: the dim lighting, the wine glasses, the murmured voices of people, the elegance of their surroundings, overlooking the city. The inevitable shrimp cocktails, the men's silk ties, the ladies in their black dresses.

Jerry had been at the campus to invite Doug to a posh social gathering with a couple of her law firm buddies. Utena had been invited as well, but she'd opted out in favor of spending a quiet night back in her dorm.

The television was on, and Utena stares through it. Anthy is a comforting presence beside her, maybe the other girl is watching, maybe not. Utena remembers a stash of pot she has hidden under her mattress, but decides against it.

Something feels so _good, _so _right. _She doesn't know what it is, and she doesn't want to acknowledge, for fear that maybe she'll somehow jinx it. Utena casts a sideways glance at the dark-skinned girl sitting by her.

"Anthy." She says.

Luminous green eyes turn to look at her, and Utena's voice catches for a moment, stuck in her throat.

"How did you get here?" Utena says, after a minute.

Anthy blinks slowly. "I can't really say." She shakes her head. "I think—I think I walked."

"How long?" Utena asks.

Anthy shakes her head again. "I don't know."

Utena hears bells ringing in her ears, a warning that she shouldn't be asking. She shouldn't endanger this ethereal happiness, she shouldn't chase it. Wasn't it enough that Anthy was here? Why should she care how Anthy got here, by bus, by train, by foot? Why should she care how long it took Anthy to find her? Why should she care that Anthy—Anthy's known her before?

"Utena." Anthy says, her voice soft, her arms open. "How long have you been waiting for me?"

The words don't leave her mouth, Utena forces them back, because they don't make any sense. She feels herself falling, black water washing over her face, roaring surf in her ears, she can't breathe. But it doesn't matter, it _can't _matter. Anthy's on the other side.

Anthy's hands stroke Utena's face, fingers trailing over the bridge of her nose, across the line of her eyebrows, over her cheekbones. Utena lets herself be comforted, her content mixing with a heavy ache at the bottom of her heart. She doesn't know why she's hurting.

_Forever, _she wants to say. _I've been waiting forever. _

* * *

_You don't suppose… you don't suppose that the outside never existed? That it was always just an aquarium, a lonely aquarium…maybe, that on the other side of the glass, it was just another aquarium? That maybe the fish could never die… because there was always water somewhere. _

_We're on this bridge; we're the only ones here. We really can see everything. It's just the ocean and me and the bridge, and if you lean out far enough, of course you'll fall, but the water's there to break it. _

_Break my fall? _

_No. _She smiles. _Your barriers. _

* * *

The story is coming to a close! Just a few more chapters, now…

Rhapsody Theorem's been through so much crap I can't even believe I've gotten this far. I've managed to keep it disjointed, full of plot holes, loopy, and just… discombobulated, in general. I don't think it's a terribly good thing.

The key, I guess, is to read between the lines and supply your own explanations on why this is all happening. But if there are any questions about the fic, I'd be happy to answer them. =)

Until the next part, then… which I predict will be out within another month or two. == I've got another few un-updated multiparts on my hands, so I have to get around to finishing _those _as well…

Thanks very much for reading, and don't forget to leave a review! ;) Go on, make my day.


	13. Resignation Theory

**Rhapsody Theorem**

_Disclaimers: _Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

_Warnings: _This is not exactly the most sense-making thing you'll read. You've been warned.

_Rants: _This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the vicious stabbing attack? Well... this is one (really random) take. There is a parallel universe, separated by dark matter, connected by a portal called the focal point of a Mobius strip…

_Summary:_ Everyone has an epiphany, sooner or later.

**Radishface**

**13**

**

* * *

**

Syle's hair has lost much of its former green color. When Doug talks to him, Syle thinks of dying it white. Or violet.

"No." Doug's face turns as green as Syle's hair used to be. Syle looks mildly concerned.

"Why?" He asks, jutting his chin out arrogantly. But of course he'll listen to Doug.

"Oh." Doug shakes his head, color returning to his face. "I don't know. Something just—you know. You're a little young for white hair."

"You can just let it grow that way naturally, Syle." Utena calls from the kitchen. Anthy's making curry, or something, something hot and spicy and savory. Utena's mouth waters at the smells coming from the metal pot, and Anthy stirs its contents demurely with a large wooden spoon.

It's late afternoon and her classes have just finished. Doug has invited her over to Syle's apartment (with or without his boyfriend's permission, Utena doesn't know, and doesn't care), and Utena went back to her room to drag Anthy along. She stands behind Anthy now, her arms crossed and leaning against Syle's luxurious granite counter, her eyes a little unfocussed. Most of her nerve cells are concentrating on the delicious flavor coming from the direction of the stove.

But there are other things to notice too, a little less obvious, a little more subtle. The curve of Anthy's back, the soft, seductive undertones of Doug's voice, the slightly nasal quality of Syle's, the soft sunlight that drifts in through one of the big bay windows, illuminating the entire apartment, making everything paler, washed-out. Utena thinks she likes the pastels, and wonders why her life was colored so harshly before.

"How was the party, Doug?" She asks, inching closer to Anthy, so that she can breathe in Anthy's scent—tea and roses—along with the curry. Anthy's hair falls in dark, regal curls down her back, and Utena resists the urge to touch it, to bury her fingers in it. It seems more real—hell, _everything _seems more real—after that kiss.

"Jerry's party?" Doug calls, and Syle laughs, a little unexpectedly.

"It was great." Syle wheezes, and Utena cranes her neck to see what the two are laughing about. Doug has buried his face in his hands—Syle has an arm draped around the other man's shoulder, fingers kneading the other's man neck.

"Doug?" She says. "What's the matter?"

"Oh." Doug clears his throat, peers at Utena through his eyelashes. "Well. There was just an unexpected guest. That's all."

"Your own _sister._" Syle laughs again. "Who was a friend of a friend of a friend of Jerry's."

Doug sinks down into the couch, his face flushing. "Don't _even _go there."

Utena grins. "Oh, now I've got to hear this. Dish."

"No."

"Then I'll tell you." Syle bares his teeth dramatically. "She's a viper, that Nana."

"Nancy." Doug says, his tone formal. "My sister. A wonderful pain in the ass, that one."

"Apparently the girl's hooked up with a lawyer and they're engaged. That lawyer just happened to be in town and so… we met." Syle shakes his head. "The girl saw her brother and freaked. Nearly pissed her evening gown."

"I wasn't too pleased to see her, either." Doug intones, but Utena and Syle ignore him.

"Well, so." Syle says. "There's a lot of _history._"

"I've got all afternoon." Utena replies.

"It's not that complicated." Doug says. "She was a narrow-minded little bitch and always listened to her parents. I was the black sheep. So when I came out, she was the first one to try and ruin me."

Utena's eyes widen a fraction. "_Ruin _you? Your own sister?"

"We're not blood siblings." Doug explains. "I was adopted. We didn't exactly get along. "

"Right." Utena says. She has a distinct feeling she'd heard this somewhere before.

"So." Doug shrugs. "I escaped here. It was a nice change."

"Um." Utena doesn't know what to say.

There is an awkward silence for a moment, broken when Anthy says,

"Dinner's ready."

* * *

The next afternoon, Utena is walking to class when she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns around in the crowded hallway and sees

_Juri _

Jerry standing behind her, orange hair tied back, glasses sliding down her nose. Utena knows that Jerry's just been given a big break by her company firm for a case that she was working on— Jerry had finished the case her way, as usual.

Utena wonders why all the details of this world are so lost to her.

"Hi." She says, a beat too late. She hopes Jerry doesn't notice her awkwardness.

"Hello." Jerry says, strangely distant. "I was just calling your name."

Utena blinks, confused. "I didn't hear you."

"That's all right." Jerry says, and steps aside. A petite blonde woman stands next to her wearing a conservative cream-colored sweater and a pair of dark-colored slacks. Her pale blonde hair is pushed back with a headband and falls in soft waves over her shoulders. Her eyes are blue with a violet tinge to them. Utena feels a disconcerting sense of deja-vu.

"Utena." Jerry says, "I'd like you to meet

_Nanami_

Nancy."

"Oh." Utena says. "Nice to meet you." She says uncertainly, giving Jerry a bewildered glance. Jerry looks so far away, ice-blue eyes colder than usual.

What's going on?

Nancy extends her hand carelessly and huffs impatiently. "Utena." The woman says.

"So." Utena says carefully, "what brings you here?"

"To town?" Nancy arches an eyebrow arrogantly. "My fiancée is a friend of Jerry's."

"No, I meant." Utena pauses. "To campus."

"Jerry told me that you'd know where

_Touga _

Doug is."

Utena doesn't know where the hell Doug is. She hasn't seen him all morning. She didn't see him at lunch. She saw Syle walking around campus, a little aimlessly, a while ago.

Utena wonders if all the other students are necessary. Her world—_the _world—seems to only consist of the specific people around her. All the others are just empty shells.

Utena shakes her head and pushes the thoughts away. They don't make any sense, anyhow. She never thought like this before her coma.

"Oh, well." Utena says, and suddenly she remembers where Doug is. "He's with his environmental science class. They're doing a lab out right now."

"I need to talk to him." Nancy says, her voice demanding. "I need to talk to him now."

"Have you tried his cell phone?" Utena says, tries to reason. She thinks of something else, something else that is a break in continuity. She would have started cussing out this woman long ago. She would have called her _bitch, you fucking bitch. _But something's changed.

Her physical, mental, psychological entropy—the chaos that had once been there—

It's been replaced. Subtly, gently, but resolutely replaced by something else.

"He's turned it off." Nancy shakes her head, and then her voice takes on a new urgency, a new cruelty. "He's not picking up. He must have turned it off."

A nagging force is tugging at her brain, spindly fingers weaving themselves through her neurons. "All right," Utena says, feeling dazed. "I'll take you to him. But he's in the woods right now. His environmental science class is doing a lab—"

_Put a foot forward into the woods, into the woods_

_That's the forbidden forest, back there, backdrop to the academy_

_What academy, what academy?_

_Have you heard?_

The pull of the invisible fingers grows stronger, and Utena turns, nodding at Nancy. "I'll show you where he is. Later, Jerry."

Jerry waves her hand in a mechanical salute and as Utena waves back, she sees the professor standing there, smiling sadly.

It's all gone in an instant, and Utena walks away.

* * *

There's a forest behind this campus, a luscious forest with dried-out, crisp eucalyptus trees and wet green grasses. The forest is filled with the scent of eucalyptus mint, and her footsteps and Nancy's footsteps crunch against the leaves as they tread the ground.

"So worthless." Utena hears Nancy mutter under her breath. "He won't listen to a damned thing that we tell him…"

It all sounds extremely theatrical and contrite, like Nancy's performance is put on for Utena's viewing pleasure. She's feeling more and more clear-headed with each step, as she breathes in the eucalyptus mint and exhales carbon dioxide, as Nancy's voice rises in pitch and frequency and seems to be the only thing Utena can hear.

Utena is here for a reason, and it's not because Nancy wants to talk to Doug.

As soon as she finishes that thought, Doug steps out from behind the trees and stands on the pathway, looking extremely annoyed and a little worried.

"What happened?" He asks, and Nancy steps out briskly, pushing Utena out of the way.

"_You _happened, you son of a bitch." She says. Utena decides that she has two choices: she could stay and intervene if their verbal fight escalates out of control; she could tactfully disappear.

"Not this again." Doug says, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration. "Not _now._ I was in the middle of something, Nancy. Couldn't it have waited?"

"This is more important!" Nancy riles. "This is more infinitely _fucking _important than anything you have to live for!"

Doug sighs, a heartbroken, resigned, tired sigh, and Utena suspects that the 'history' Syle was talking about might have been something more than the issue of Doug's sexuality.

"I was _your _fucking responsibility." Nancy's voice breaks into a sob. "And you fucked it up."

Utena walks and walks and walks until their screaming is just a whisper to her ears.

* * *

_Diamond fish swim past me, _Utena thinks, _and I'm submerged in a glass aquarium. _

_Two diamond fish in the same aquarium? _Mikage says, falling into step next to her as they walk through the liquid blue, their movements slow and unhurried. Utena watches the bubbles stream out of her mouth.

_Why not? _Utena asks. _Why do you want me to leave so badly? Weren't you the one who brought me here in the first place?_

Mikage sighs, the bubbles escaping his mouth and his nostrils. His glasses are perched at the end of his nose, but the water is making them hover in front of his eyes, and Utena is a little worried that they'll fall off.

_There can only one diamond fish per aquarium. _Mikage laughs. Utena is taken aback, but her surprise is just as slow in coming, just as unhurried, and she attributes it to their aquatic environment. _No more than that._

_Well, why not?_ Utena says indignantly. _I lived here before you came along._

_No. _Mikage says, shakes his head at her. _I was here before you. _

Utena believes him. _But you, _she says. She doesn't want to lose, not now. _He's not real, you know. _

Mikage turns his head, closing his eyes. _Don't say things like that. _

_It's true._ Utena says, stops walking, and turns around. She takes Mikage's chin in her hand and makes him look at her. _He's just a figment of your imagination._

_What makes you think that Anthy isn't just a figment of _your _imagination?_ Mikage replies. Utena's hand trails down to his throat. She can feel him swallow.

_Everybody else sees her._ Utena says, and takes a step back. She looks at their aquarium. On one side of the aquarium is the forest; eucalyptus trees and dead leaves and arguing siblings. On the other side is a white marble campus, something hanging in the sky that looks like a castle. _Nobody sees Mamiya._

_Does it matter?_ Mikage says. _If you turn your back on a tree in the forest, does it exist?_

Utena won't let herself be confused again; it's happened once too often. Mikage has played tricks on her, he's made her doubt herself.

_You said yourself, _she says. _Anthy and Mamiya—they're ideals. They transcend everything; they transcend realities because they're ubiquitous and omnipotent. But you and I—we're only human. We can only go so far, believe in so much. _

Mikage was silent. Utena closed her eyes, felt the water rush around her.

_Anthy searched for me and she found me. You created Mamiya when he didn't come. Your belief system is based on shaky foundations, professor. _

"Just go back." Mikage says, and Utena opens her eyes. The water is draining from the aquarium, and Mikage's lips are moving, his speech impaired by the presence of the water. She can barely hear him, but she sees him say it: just go back, because it's easier that way.

"No," Utena says, and stretches out, wanting to grab a handful of Mikage's hair, pull him into Ohtori with her. The water makes her sluggish as it drains out of the tank. The eucalyptus trees recede into the horizon, and Mikage begins his walk back into the forest.

"Son of a bitch." She cries out. "You _son of a bitch_."

But Utena has escaped before. She always will.

* * *

_I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. That was the last thing I was thinking. If I had another chance, I would have done what I never had done. I would have apologized, and then we would have started over. We would have started from the beginning, and we would have been great, you and me. Do you know that you saved me too, Anthy, even when I wasn't aware? You saved me from mediocrity, from simple contentment. And loving you- it's so grand, so big. Because you're not just smooth, dark, skin, you're not just silky curls and soft smiles and green eyes. You represent something so much more, Anthy, and I'm afraid to say what it is. The last time I defined you by that I lost everything. _

_Oh, my dear, my precious thing. I think my heart's going to break from loving you._

* * *

Utena blinks, and her eyes focus on the white marble ceiling. Sunlight streaks in from a faraway window on the opposite side of the infirmary. She turns her head slightly to the right. There's a vase of roses on the nightstand next to her, vibrant and vermillion. She squints at the faraway window and thinks she sees a nest, chicks chirping inside. Groggy, she sits up, scratching her head and keeping her eye on the window, on the faint, colorless sky.

"I didn't think you'd wake this time." A chirpy, upbeat voice rings in her ears, and Utena looks around to find Wakaba standing next to the bed, arms crossed, expression faintly puzzled.

"What happened this time?" Utena asks, quiet. She fingers the edge of the sheets, reveling in the clean, crisp feeling.

"You almost drowned." Wakaba sounds exasperated. "What were you thinking, going out into the woods like that, falling into the lake?"

"I—"

"I don't want to hear it." Wakaba shakes her head. "You, of all people, should have known that the forest is off-limits."

"It wasn't before." Utena says. "I used to go there all the time."

"But that was before." Wakaba replies. "Things have changed since you left. Where _have _you been, anyway?"

Utena had known that this question would be coming. Somebody would have had to ask it, sooner or later. "It's hard to explain," she starts, slowly, and then realizes that she is not obligated to tell the truth. In fact, there is no possible way that she can explain it, because whenever she tries to grasp it, the idea of it—of Mikage, of Anthy, and of Doug and Syle and Michael and Jerry—they fade in and out, like radio static, pulsating and opaque, lost on the other side of the Mobius strip.

"Did you transfer?" Wakaba asks, and turns her head to look out the window. "They said that you transferred. I didn't quite believe it myself because you know, we were such good friends back then and you wouldn't have done something that big without telling me before."

"It was sudden." Utena says emptily. Wakaba is still hurt, Utena sees now. The way she holds herself, proud, confident, yet, but now that they are talking about this thing, this disappearing act of Utena's, Wakaba's kinesics have become closed, more uncertain. Her eyes have regained that lingering vulnerability that had always permeated them before.

"You're damned right it was sudden." Wakaba says. "But by then you really weren't telling me that much anymore."

"I'm sorry," Utena says, and realizes that she's said it before. She really is sorry, for everything.

There's silence for a while, and then the school bell rings, and a few moments later, sounds drift in from the window, students walking and talking and laughing all at once. They listen to the bustle and avoid looking at each other, and then somebody knocks at the door.

"Come in," Wakaba and Utena say at the same time, and two familiar people walk in and take their seats next to Wakaba.

"Touga," Utena nods. "Saionji."

"We heard you were back," Touga says. His charm is more subtle now, hidden beneath a layer of sincerity. His smile is gentle, his demeanor is open.

"So we heard." Saionji says, less smilingly, more seriously. His eyes remain steely, less hysterical, less frenzied. He's composed, cool, and thoughtful, and Utena wonders how she can see it all within one glance.

Maybe she's seen it all before, maybe that's why.

"How have you been?" Utena asks, but doesn't look at them. She feels like she is so far away, so removed from this situation. But really, she thinks, looking at her hands, it's not like she's really here. Mikage put her here, and she needs to get back.

"Things have happened." Touga says, his voice strangely weary. Utena looks up, surprised, and finds his eyes bright and glassy. Wakaba looks uncomfortable, and Saionji's hand is on Touga's arm, solid and reassuring.

"Things." Utena repeats meaninglessly. Wakaba gives a nervous giggle, and Saionji glares at nothing in particular.

"She deserves to know," Saionji says. "It's not like she's a stranger."

Wakaba clears her throat. "Utena, you remember Nanami?"

It's funny how those four words can make Utena feel like a complete outsider. Of course she remembers Nanami, high-pitched laughter, hair soft and fluffy and pale yellow, eyes like a viper's. Of course she remembers.

"Well, there was this accident."

_I was your fucking responsibility, _Utena hears Nancy say,_ and you fucked it up. _

Are things continuous like that? How much effect does one thing on one strip have on the other strip? How do things like life and death cross over, when they are so transient? Or is it because they are transient that they can pass through?

"She's dead," Touga says blankly. "But things happen."

"I'm so sorry," Utena says, and she means it. She sees Saionji's hand come to rest on the back of Touga's neck, caress the soft hairs there, discreetly, secretly. Wakaba doesn't notice, the brown-haired girl has a high flush on her cheeks, embarrassed by the sudden candidness of the former student body president. And when Touga says, quietly, _I'm late for that meeting_, Saionji stands up with him, and they're never not touching, they're always close, and they walk out the door like that, the millions of dreams that had separated them before now gone. They've woken up, Utena realizes.

Wakaba clears her throat, adjusts the collar of her black uniform. She smiles disarmingly, and then proceeds to start from square one.

"With budget cuts, the nurses can't afford to be around to babysit you _all _the time, you know, but I didn't think you'd be so irresponsible and take off!"

"Budget cuts?" Oddly, that's the first thing that strikes Utena.

"Blame the parents." Wakaba shrugs. "The PTA decided that the school's funds weren't being put to use properly. Too much focus on extra curricular activities, they said- our kids aren't getting a solid core education. So they cut a bunch of things."

Utena wonders why reality has chosen to touch Ohtori Academy at this point in time.

"They cut the chairman's salary, for one thing." Wakaba looks smug. "And he's absolutely stricken. They said he had to sell his car to compensate for his salary cut."

"The chairman was always sort of a ceremonial position." Utena says slowly. "He never really did anything, if I recall."

"It's still pretty ceremonial." Wakaba inspects her fingernails, blows on them. Utena thinks the gesture superfluous, but it suits the new Wakaba. Wakaba, in her smart black school uniform, her tight ponytail, and serious expression. Utena wonders if the girls idolize Wakaba in the Sapphic, romantic way that Utena was once idolized.

"So." Utena says, at a loss for words. She has a vague recollection of Wakaba's soft hands in her own, swinging arms as they walked down the school paths.

"Well," Wakaba looks thoughtful as she stares out the window. "…we never needed him anyway."

She's referring to the chairman. Utena remembers that they had this conversation once, not too long ago. She would like to visit, she would like to see how everything is. She would like to see how Wakaba's passive nature has evolved into an active one. She would like to see how Saionji and Touga's relationship has progressed, if they have become true best friends again. She would like to see Juri and see Shiori and see if Juri's still suffering, if Shiori is still basking innocence. She would like to see a lot of things; but there are sacrifices that must be made, and there are priorities that must be given weight.

She knows that if she stayed to see these things, she would grow attached—and she would not be able to return.

"They cut a lot of the after-school clubs, too." Wakaba tilts her head speculatively, and looks a little sad. "The fencing club was the first to go."

"Oh no." Utena says, feeling a sinking feeling tug at her heart. "Not the fencing club."

Wakaba shrugs. "Why not? We didn't need the chairman. We don't need the fencing club. They're all superfluous. They all eat into the budget. And people can still fence if they want to. There's just no central hub for it anymore."

There are some things left unsaid. They don't need the chairman, they don't need the fencing club: they don't need the Rose Bride, they don't need abstract ideals or established institutions to help them fulfill their wishes. People set their own destinies through their own forces of will and don't need mediums to guide them through life. Utena takes one look at the new Wakaba, sharp and aloof and congenial, and knows that this is so.

"So," Wakaba says, and stands up. Utena wants to stand with her, walk out the door the way Touga and Saionji walked out together, shoulders brushing and touching, intimate like that. But she knows that it will be futile, that Wakaba probably has somebody waiting for her, just like Utena has somebody waiting for her too.

"So," Wakaba says again, "rest well. I'll come back tomorrow."

Wakaba's sweet voice has developed authority and power, and Utena heeds the implicit command, and falls asleep. When she wakes up, it's nighttime and there is a nurse standing by, refilling her water glass.

"Thank you," Utena says, and the nurse turns around, startled.

"Oh, it's no problem." The nurse says, her clean white uniform gleaming in the dark. She has dark brown eyes and dark brown hair and has slight signs of fatigue under her eyes.

"What time is it?" Utena asks.

"Four in the morning." The nurse says, and clicks her tongue. "It's still early."

"I thought they didn't have the budget to hire staff so early in the morning." Utena says, more to herself than to the nurse.

"Oh, I'm not hired," the nurse says, and briefly, her brown eyes shimmer green, her short brown hair grows long and wavy and gleams violet in the moonlight. "I'm a volunteer."

Utena chokes on the name, _Anthy_, and it becomes stuck in her throat. She swallows it, painfully, feels a sudden pang of homesickness, wonders how Mikage really sent her here, if she's really here at all, or if it's just a state of mind; if life is a state of mind.

The nurse leaves and Utena falls back asleep. When she wakes up again, it's bright outside, a clear, sunny day, and her water glass is empty.

Wakaba comes in shortly, ponytail bouncing, fresh and rested. Utena feels groggy still, but awake, as if she's peering through some distant fog at this person named Utena who is feeling groggy.

_What a dream, _she thinks. _What a dream._

"I talked to the nurse," Wakaba is saying, as she plops down on a chair next to the bed, "and she says that it would do you some good to get some fresh air."

Wakaba has brought Utena a change of clothes, a fresh uniform, a black top, just like the one Wakaba is wearing, just like the one that Utena used to wear.

"It's the only thing I have in my closet," Wakaba says. "I have a girl's top, but it's all ripped up."

Utena doesn't ask. She accepts the top carefully, as if it will break apart in her hands. Wakaba finds a pair of shorts for her to wear, and a pair of shoes. Utena wiggles her toes in the shoes, acutely feels the loss of socks.

"So, Utena." Wakaba starts, as they walk out the door together, falling into their old step, like they used to. Utena notes that she is walking slightly ahead, her arms tucked behind her head, and Wakaba, legs not as long, pads along at a quicker, lighter pace to keep up with Utena's leisurely ones. Yes, Utena has to get out of here, before the comforts of familiarity draw her in again.

"I've been busy," Utena says, answering Wakaba's unspoken question. "Things have happened."

Wakaba raises her eyebrows in that new, imperious way. "Well, of course things have happened. That's what things do."

How circular, how odd the conversation is! Utena clears her throat. "I've still been attending school."

"I wouldn't expect you to drop out." Wakaba says lightly. "You were a bright student, after all."

"Not that bright." Utena shakes her head.

"You were smarter than most of the other kids." Wakaba states, her voice assured and confident. Dear Wakaba, Utena thinks, I never would have found Anthy if it weren't for you. I never would have challenged Touga again if it weren't for you. Wakaba, I fought you once, and you were wearing a black top just like this. It's a pity you don't remember, because it's all coming back to me now.

They walk under the shade of the trees, the birds chirping far away somewhere, the quiet hum of the classroom air conditioners heard all the way out on the outskirts of the school. Wakaba is talking now, talking about Miki and how he's improved his piano to the extent that he's barely at school anymore because he's away on tour so much. Utena compares Miki to Michael, who is always stuck in one place, working with his fingers as well, but whereas Miki is digging into the ivory keys, Michael's nails scratch nothing but hair. And Kozue, still is sleeping with half the school population, and maybe more, because she's not shy about girls, either, she is the school's whore, but is that really surprising news?

There are so many others that Utena would like to know about, but there isn't the time. Their stroll has taken them to where Utena knew it would take them: to the gates to the dueling arena.

Wakaba looks at her sadly. "You don't really have to go, do you?"

Utena is taken aback. "What do you mean?" She'd believed that Wakaba thought she had transferred schools. That was the reason, up until now.

"Never mind," Wakaba says, and takes off her ring, her rose signet ring, and hands it to Utena. "I think you'll need this."

Utena slips it onto her fourth finger and grasps the marble handle firmly, and the drop of water extends from the mirrored pool like she'd known it would, like it always has. The sharp coldness of the water, of waking reality, strikes her suddenly, and she bites her lip. Wakaba stands beside her, eyes closed, expression still open, body kinesics closed.

The door opens with a great rush and the fountains spurt, pooling, showering them with stagnant water, putrid with decaying roses. Utena wonders how long it has been since anybody has ventured here.

"What's the real reason, Wakaba?" She says, over the rush of the water. The doors turn in on themselves and slowly open, mechanisms screaming inside their marble walls.

"The real reason?" Wakaba smiles sadly. "For what?"

"For the duels." Utena says. "Why are they gone? Who stopped them?"

"Utena, Utena." Wakaba lets her name roll of her tongue. "We don't need them anymore. We don't need the chairman, we don't need the Rose Bride, and we don't need lofty aspirations of revolution, personal or social or otherwise. Utena, not everybody can be like you and see things where there's nothing to be seen. Not everybody can stumble into a great vision like you. Some of us, Utena, are just bent to mediocrity, and there's no shame in that."

"I never said—" Utena starts, but then Wakaba's mouth is on hers in an incestuous, sisterly kiss, the tip of Wakaba's tongue between Utena's lips, and Utena is more than surprised, and she cannot move.

"I wasn't able to do this before, was I?" Wakaba says, when she pulls away, her lips faintly red and her cheeks very pink. "Not when I was innocent. I could do everything but that."

"Wakaba—" Utena says, wanting, for some mad reason, to return the kiss. It's the pull of conformity, of easiness, of familiarity. But then Wakaba is pushing her into the elevator, and then she is locked inside.

"Goodbye, Utena!" Wakaba says, waving from below, "she's waiting for you."

Utena wants to scream, _I'm sorry, _there are a million things she is sorry for. She wants to say that she's not a person who sees a vision, she never fulfilled her revolution to herself, and the only reason she's come in contact with greatness is because she's stumbled into it, like Wakaba has said. But even as her fingers are curled around the bars of the caged elevator the briar vines wind around her hands and trap them there, thorns piercing into her skin but not cutting, and the pain is excruciating but she is not bleeding. The briar vines wind around the cage, obscuring the sunlight, and when the doors open to the cracked, dusty dueling arena, Utena sees one lone person standing in the middle of the court.

"Mamiya," she says, and stumbles out of the cage. The elevator doors shut behind her and make their whining descent.

He is a dark-haired boy with freckles, a pale, creamy complexion, a healthy glow in his face that has replaced the sickly pallor that was there before. His eyes are wide, shining, and he smiles sweetly at Utena, an unguarded smile, without reproach.

"Bring him back, won't you?" He says, and looks up at the castle in the sky. Utena looks up as well, feels herself grow dizzy.

"Mamiya," she says, as her head spins. "Does he still know who you are?"

"I hope he does." Mamiya's laughter is soft, unassuming. "After all these years?"

"But—" Utena's throat dries. She doesn't want to tell him that Mikage's created a different counterpart, a dark-skinned, light-haired one that bears striking resemblance to the Rose Bride, to false hopes and dreams and revolution, and that's why Mikage's been missing for so long.

"He's always had trouble seeing the simple side of things." Mamiya says, and his voice comes from another place. Utena closes her eyes. "If I'm sick, I'm sick. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die. He doesn't have to make such a fuss about it."

"But you're not dead." Mamiya is corporeal, real, standing next to her.

"Not completely. Are we ever?"

"I guess not."

Silence, and then Mamiya speaks again, a simple request. "Bring him back. I've missed him."

Utena nods, feels the bones in her neck crick in response, and then her whole back is breaking, every bone in her body is breaking, as the light pours over her in palpable waves and she ascends to the castle in the sky, borne up on angel's wings, and clouds, and the stuff that dreams are made of.

* * *

He's hovering there, at the edge.

_You can see? _She asks. _Can you see everything from there?_

He makes for a stunning picture, pale and fragile and strong, framed by the focal point of the Mobius strip. The edges around the Mobius are blurred, gushing like the fountains that preceded the arena gates, except they make no sound. It is as if this gateway is composed entirely of water and air and spirit. It does not smell of roses or of anything at all; it is tasteless, odorless, and colorless. Mikage is standing in the forest, still, waist deep in creek water, the dead of the autumn leaves at the edge of the stream, and the smell of eucalyptus drifts faintly from that side of the focal point, reaches her nose in tempting, stinging fumes. He is standing in the water, and she is looking from under the water. She could so easily touch his feet, pull him in, if she wanted. But she has no corporeal being, she has no physical body with which to grasp, to embrace, to ravage.

_Mikage, _she calls. _Mikage_. _If you're really my shadow—_ and then she laughs at the aptness of that thought. No, Mikage was not a shadow, not just a dark thing on the surface of something solid. Mikage was a reflection, given life by light, and the projection of his being was made possible by the gleaming surface of his existence. He has that potential to brightness, to enlightenment.

_Mikage_, she calls, and he looks into the water, his eyes tired and resigned. She wants to materialize. She wants hands that can sink him, that can push him back into this other sphere of existence. It is a selfish wish, she knows. She would like him to leave because the two of them cannot exist. She was born of him, and he of her. If he had not wished so hard to change the world, the Duel system would never been established. If the Duel system had never been established, she would have never embraced her destiny. It would have never approached her, and she would never have approached it. And it was because of him that she was here right now, trapped in this whirling vortex that was the focal point. She willed him to see her.

_You have a second chance, _she said. _So take it!_

And something flashes behind her, the white light of gleaming limestone and marble, of castles in the sky. And his face nears her, eyes hopeless and hopeful all at once. He comes down, deeper into the creek, and it is only at the last minute that she realizes that it is not a controlled descent; he has fallen.

He crashes into the waters of the creek with a soundless splash. He sinks, and she is powerless to stop it, but this is what she has wanted. If she had arms, she would embrace him. The focal point swirls behind her, and she doesn't look back. She feels Mikage, their noses touching, first, then their foreheads, then lips, his whole body sinking into hers, a skewed parody of intercourse, without the physicality of it. She cannot close her eyes, because she does not have any. She is just a spirit, immaculate particles, singular and shining, and Mikage is absorbing her as he fuses, then passes through. For a moment she knows everything about him, his loves and his pains, his frustrations and his visions of grandeur, and the true greatness that lies behind his façade as a professor, the potential for greatness in any human being.

And she hears a question,

_This is your second chance as well. Are you sure you don't want to take it?_

And she answers,

_I already have everything I need._

He had aspired to greatness, first. When greatness failed, he aspired to love. When Mikage lost his vision, he succumbed to the inevitable delusions: the Duels were created, twisted manifestations of life's struggles. And hadn't she fallen prey to those as well, hadn't she wanted something she didn't understand? She didn't know what it was to free Anthy, to release the idea of an egotistical revolution. She had meant to achieve something for Anthy; she had ended up revolutionizing her own life.

Mikage would know what she meant. Mikage would understand the purpose of the Duels, of Ohtori. Ohtori was a place where one capitalized upon greatness. Ohtori was a delusion of greatness, with its massive architecture and its high ceilings and cold, impersonal rooms. It was tempting to fall into patterns of greatness. It was tempting to want to seize popularity and become student council president. It was tempting to want power and power games and viciousness. It was tempting to want. It was harder to accept a simple life when one was so convoluted and ambitious; it was difficult to be happy without wanting more.

She feels him pass through her, and she feels as Orpheus did when Eurydice was behind, except she does turn around. She can only go forward. She can only go up.

Water breaks over her face as she breathes in, gulping breaths of water, dirty creek water. She is suffocating.

* * *

Utena thinks of opening her eyes, and then thinks the better of it. She instead concentrates on the smells, the sounds, and the feel of things.

The sounds around her echo faintly. She thinks of large rooms, hallways. But the sound is absorbed, though it reflects; a tiled floor, she concludes. She turns her head a little to her right and she sees red through her eyelids—the sun, from an open window. She can hear the sound of cars driving around in a closed environment; a parking lot. She is lying on a stiff mattress, the pillows are warm and starchy under her head. The sheets are scratchy. She breaths in, slowly, deeply, and detects the faint smell of roses and violets. Someone is rummaging. The shuffle of the feet, the faint humming-

"Are you up yet, sleepy?"

She opens her eyes now and sees a familiar face, framed by a shock of red hair. But the red hair has lost its former vibrancy. It is almost auburn now, with hints of brown, of ordinariness.

"Oh, Touga." She says, and the words feel strange. "No, Doug."

"Not relapsing again, are we?" He asks plainly, without reproach.

Utena laughs, and shakes her head on the pillow. "No."

"So."

"So."

They look at each other for a while. Utena knows that Doug can't possibly know, although he looks like he does. After a while, Doug sighs, and grins at her.

"Stupid."

"What, did I almost drown?"

"Yeah. But it saved me from having to explain any more to Nancy."

Utena doesn't ask. She knows that he will tell her, someday. And in this world, it has nothing to do with an accident, or a responsibility. It has to do with something else, something less profound, infinitely more mediocre.

"Somebody left you something, by the way." Doug says, and points in the direction of the foot of the bed. "Take a look."

Utena doesn't know how she missed it. At the foot of her bed is a miniature aquarium, replete with goldfish that are gold and not gold, white and red. They bobble around carelessly, even though they are crowded for space. Their huge, unblinking eyes gaze back at her. She feels a shudder go down her spine, and then dismisses it.

_Oh, Mikage._

"Minnows would have saved space, don't you think?" She chuckles.

Doug doesn't quite understand. He doesn't pretend to, and looks at her with obvious amusement. "Go back to sleep, Utena."

When she wakes up again, it is dark outside, city lights glimmering in the distance. She can't wait to recover sufficiently and get out of here and live her life: her simple, uncomplicated life that has been giving new meaning.

Anthy's hand is in hers. The other girl is sleeping, breaths deep and calm, even though she looks uncomfortable, scrunched up in an inadequate hospital chair. Utena holds her hand loosely, as if afraid to break it. Anthy has never looked more beautiful than this, Utena thinks, Anthy's hair an intense violet, her skin a vibrant mahogany, the point of her nose and the curve of her breast beautiful and perfect. Her hand is delicate and strong at once, fingernails glossy like enamel, skin smooth on the palm of her hand. The hair, Utena thinks. Not a strand out of place, almost a dictated level of waviness. What eerie beauty, Utena thinks, and watches the stars outside.

The hand shifts in hers, and Anthy opens her eyes. "Oh, Utena," she says, and her voice sounds pleased and content. Her eyes possess an incandescent quality as they shine with restrained joy. Utena says nothing, but smiles back. Words are not needed.

And in the blink of an eye, the vision fades. Anthy's hair is just black, her skin brown and healthy, but not glowing with the inner luminescence that had shone through it, like she had been made of light and her skin just a container. No, her hair is disheveled from the vigil she's kept at Utena's bedside. The skin on her hands is rough, of one who works and is not tired of working. Two of her nails are chipped. The curves of her body are more angular and harsh. Her eyes are no longer a vibrant green. Utena cannot tell what color Anthy's eyes are. She only knows that they are dark.

Anthy has lost that smooth, gleaming perfection. For a moment Utena wonders if she had ever had it, and then reprimands herself.

_Never forget_, she promises.

_Never forget that she was once an ideal, and your ideal. She was perfect then. She is still perfect now, but in a different way. You have seen man at his best and at his worst. You have seen humanity in these things. You apologized once for your absences. There was nothing you could do but be there for yourself. She once represented perfection to you. She represented what you were fighting for._

_But now you have fought your battles, you have won your war. You have seen the world, all its trials and sufferings and pains. All that you ask for now is something small. You ask for peace and normality. And if it sacrifices greatness, so be it. Let another hero lead. Let another Prince reign. The world does not rest on your shoulders. _

And with that thought, Utena sighs, and releases her past from her. It still had not made all the sense it should have made, but things like that, such _important_ things, are not important in the context of _here _and _now._

She has somebody beside her now, not an intangible ideal or standard of perfection and revolution, but something bodily and human. Anthy is here as Anthy, not as a princess. No, Anthy had been released from that title when Utena had freed herself from the last vestiges of the _prince_.

Utena is soaring, if only in her mind. She is weightless and unburdened, only filled with a quiet happiness, a warm, golden happiness that flows from her, from her hand to Anthy's hand. She feels that the world could end right now and she would not care. She feels herself drifting back to sleep, promises of tomorrow, of pancakes and promenades and spring semester parading around in her head.

Outside, the stars wink out, one by one.

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_End  
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Comments? Criticism? Confused? Feedback is always appreciated!

And a heartfelt, heartfelt thank you to everyone who has been with this story since the beginning. As corny as it sounds: you made it possible! D


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